Through a glass, darkly
by middlewife
Summary: AH/AU. Bella Swan thought being invisible would protect her from the eyes of the world. Instead, it made her an enticing target for a sadistic predator. Can Officer Edward Cullen and his partner protect Bella from her unknown and persistent assailant?
1. Prologue

**Many thanks to Project Team Beta, for their invaluable input, and my beta's Showtunes Jesus and Rags88. Your assistance gave my baby a bit of spit and polish.**

**Thanks also to all the girlies at ATM, my cyber BFFs. You have been my yellow brick road to a world of endless possibilites.**

**As you all know, SMeyer owns it all, I'm just a pretender with a pesky imagination.  
**

**ALERT: Please be aware that this work contains references to disturbing/graphic violence and descriptions of past violence. For this reason, this fiction is rated M**

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**Prologue**

"_I became startled by the extraordinary difference between something whose surface is completely invisible which only makes itself present by virtue of what it reflects, and a window, which doesn't make itself apparent at all, in the ideal case" __~ Jonathan Miller _

I watched her. I watched her all the time.

The girl scurried up the sidewalk to enter her hideaway, the only place she was herself. No one saw her properly; no one really saw her at all. Nothing about her caught or held the eye; she was…well, she was _ordinary._ She was of average height and weight. Her hair was long, as with most females of that age group, a nondescript brown just like her eyes. Her clothes were always neutral colors, the boring and characterless uniform of jeans and hooded sweaters favored by the young. She blended in tonelessly with others of her generation, aimless teenagers navigating to and fro in their purposeless lives.

She hardly ever looked up or made eye contact with others, consequently passing the notice of most. No one saw her like I did. I alone noticed her. I alone acknowledged her presence in this world. Even surrounded by hundreds of fellow students who ambled through the bustling campus where she spent most days, she was untouched by their presence. Solitary. Ignored. No friends to pass the time with, no family waiting to claim their slice of her attention. My girl was invisible and all alone.

My scrutiny continued as I waited until she was safely inside her little bolthole before leaving the seclusion of my surveillance point. I crept along the rooftops lining the alley behind her building until I found my favorite vantage point, giving me an uninterrupted view of her small living room. I watched as she unpacked her messenger bag, unloading her books onto the tiny dining table, which doubled as her desk. She disappeared briefly from my view, returning after changing from her 'outside' uniform to the 'inside' comfort of a tank and yoga pants. I studied her as she went about her nightly routine, as familiar to me as her dainty features.

Soon, she would be mine and mine alone. One touch and I would know all her secrets. Soon…


	2. Chapter 1

**Thanks again to Project Team Beta for their expertise, particularly my Beta's Showtunes Jesus and Rags88**

**SMeyer owns the original, I just play with the action figures.**

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**Chapter 1**

_**Edward**_

The radio crackled to life, breaking the fragile bubble of quiet in the dark interior of the squad car.

"Unit 754. What is your location? Over."

As I was riding shotgun tonight, I picked up the handset to reply.

"This is unit 754. Current location is Sector 8, down by dockside. Over"

"Call-in of a possible code forty-eight. Caller still onsite." The dispatcher's static-distorted voice then rattled off the address.

As my partner flipped the toggle to engage the flashing rooftop lights and floored the gas pedal, my mind was already reeling through codes and possible scenarios. Code forty-eight was a deceased individual. _Shit, shit, shit!_ I thought with an internal groan. Nothing created a fuckton of paper work like a dead body. This was the last night out of four consecutive nine hour shifts on First Watch. I had never quite gotten used to the police department's odd hours; working from three in the morning to noon seemed unnatural when surrounded by the nine to five weekday world. We were supposed to have two days furlough off after, but a body would make it near impossible to complete and file the case work before the end of our shift. We already had two previous jobs to write up from tonight. I huffed in annoyance.

The site was amongst the derelict warehouses that lined the old shipyards. When the new commercial deepwater port opened a few years prior, most maritime businesses had moved their operations closer, leaving these buildings to slowly disintegrate with mold and neglect.

_Could be an OD_, I thought, _or a drunk finally succumbing to malnutrition or exposure. Perhaps one of the local gangs sorting out perceived infractions with blades and__crowbars_. I quickly discarded the last option; gangs rarely left fallen comrades behind, unless disturbed or caught in the act.

As we drew closer to our destination, I reached up to engage the external spotlight, highlighting the crumbling façades ahead. Soon the light ghosted over a huddle of people who crowded close to the yawning blackness of an open doorway. I swiftly scanned and assessed the group, and with a quick glimpse to the side, I could see my partner Jasper's practised eye doing the same. Picking up the mic on his private mobile radio, Jasper gave our location and a head count of the group to the dispatcher, his eyes never leaving them. Exiting the safety of our squad car, we both patted down our utility belts, arms and equipment; an unconscious habit born of firsthand experience about the value of having ready and speedy access at the first sign of a threat.

The group consisted of four teenagers in all. Two males were hunched over a rather tall and overweight girl stretched out on the coarse gravel of the bitumen as her body heaved with dry retches. One pimply youth was ineffectually patting her back while the other kept repeating reassuring mumbles in a cracked mantra. The standing male sucked desperately on a cigarette as he played nervously with the toggle on the zipper of his hoodie. He tried in vain to shield his eyes from the probing of the squad car's spotlight. He started babbling their explanation as soon as we approached, as I pulled out my pocket-sized notebook and began jotting notes.

It seemed they had been attending an impromptu rave party, hastily organised by mass text messaging. It was held in another abandoned warehouse a block or two away. The teens had been looking for a place to drink a bit more before sleeping off the effects of the E they had all dropped at the rave, and had chosen this particular warehouse at random. Although the door had been secured with a padlock, the doorframe itself was badly affected by dry rot. It had apparently been a game to see who could land the kick that broke the catch away from the doorjamb. Once inside, they had used a combination of Zippos and cell phone screen lights to navigate. As they crossed the empty floor, the girl had put her foot through a rotting floorboard and stumbled, dropping her phone, which fell through the hole below.

"There's a dead body in there, man-downstairs in the basement." The boy's voice climbed higher in his panic to unload all the details. "We weren't doin' nothin', man. Maggie just lost her phone, and her ole lady will ground her if she loses it. Jeff and me went down to get it. It's real dark down there."

The pimply youth, obviously Jeff, interrupted. "I used the light on my iPhone. Todd squealed like a pussy and said he thought he stepped on a rat."

"What the fuck? I did _not_ squeal, you dick!" Todd interjected. "That's when we saw it. I stood on a stiff, dude." He seemed to pale even further at the memory.

"Can you describe the body?" Jasper asked.

"All I saw was the foot I stepped on, man. It was all grey. The leg was weird-looking and covered in black stuff. Then me and Jeff took off up here and called nine-one-one." Todd took another drag on his almost dead cigarette.

"Did anyone else go down there?" I asked, nodding in the direction of the prostrate girl, the other unnamed boy still patting her as you would a puppy.

"Fuck, no! Maggie always gets like this after a couple of drinks. It's Friday." He shrugged apologetically, as if this explained everything.

Jasper asked them to remain waiting while we went to investigate the situation inside. I stowed my notebook and snapped on a pair of latex gloves I had stuffed in my pocket earlier. I slid my flashlight from its loop on my utility belt, quickly glancing at Jasper for silent confirmation of how this would roll. I would enter first, with Jasper covering me as he scoped for further details and evidence.

We entered the cavern-like interior of the warehouse, our flashlight beams dwarfed by the smothering darkness. Although our torches had an extremely far-reaching beam, it seemed like we had been walking across miles of uneven floor before we found the rear wall. How those kids got this far with only Zippo's and cell phones defied imagination. _Determination is the mother of invention, I suppose,_ I thought to myself. On the far wall were three doors. One was a heavily bolted external door. The middle door lead to a pokey room, which seemed to have been an office or lunchroom. The last door was our target.

I ducked through the opening as Jasper illuminated the small landing and stairs beyond, which dropped off into even deeper blackness. The silence was more complete here, giving a sense of a more enclosed space below where all outside noise was obliterated. The air smelled dank and stale, the heavy hint of mold mingled with something all too familiar. Blood had recently been spilled here, and lots of it.

Hugging the wall, we descended the stairs to stand together at the bottom as we swept our flash beams through the basement. About thirty-six feet long, it had obviously been some kind of subterranean workroom. One wall was bordered with a long workbench with an overhanging pegboard, now empty except for a multitude of spiders and their gossamer webs. The floor was littered with cardboard boxes of varying sizes, some completely flattened and some lying on their sides exposing empty interiors. In the far corner a box big enough to house a refrigerator lay vertical. Just visible, peeking from the shadowed far side of the box was a small bare foot, startlingly pale against the dark and dirty concrete floor.

Jasper and I exchanged a loaded look, before he silently nodded for me to continue forward as he withdrew his gun from its holster. I skirted the boxes hesitantly, careful not to disturb them and move or destroy any potential evidence. As I slowly stepped around, my flashlight beam revealed more of the prone figure. From the bare foot, my light exposed first one leg and then the other. It was female, as I had surmised originally from the size of the foot.

She lay on her back with her face turned away from me, her features obscured by her long trailing hair. _This is no drug addict or OD_, I thought. Her limbs were too rounded, slim but not emaciated with neglect and poor diet. One leg was bent at an odd angle, caked in dried blood, and from my cursory initial glance at the mess of wounds, it appeared broken in several places. The other leg was splayed out to the side. One arm was draped across her torso, as if hiding or protecting her chest.

The body was scantily dressed in a pair of greyish boy-style panties and wife beater. Her bare limbs, where not stained by flaking dried blood, were black with dirt and the violent purple-blue blooms of deep bruising. The shoulder of the arm across her chest was one solid mass of bruises and also looked oddly deformed, perhaps dislocated, I analysed, processing and cataloguing as I observed. Her knees, elbows and knuckles were scrapped and grazed, and oozy ligature marks were visible on her delicate wrists and ankles. I swept my light over the head again. Tendrils of hair appeared stuck to the ground with congealing blood, evidently a nasty head wound there somewhere I concluded.

My mental inventory kicked up a notch with that one. Oozing wounds, congealing blood – _the body must be quite fresh then_. As I held my flashlight focussed on her head, something shimmered in the periphery of the light, catching my attention. Her chest, had it moved? I crouched for a closer look. The arm laying over the top of the body obscured my view as I concentrated fiercely. Yes! It was rising. Barely, but definitely rising. I shot abruptly to my feet.

"Jasper, she's alive! Call an ambulance." As I moved to kneel beside her, I could hear him simultaneously frantically talking into his radio and moving closer, giving me more light so I could drop mine. I pushed aside the sodden mass of hair to expose her face, gasping at what I saw. One side of her face was a distended discolored mess, one eye completely swollen closed and her bluish lips pulpy and mashed. As gently as I could I gingerly lifted the arm covering her torso to place it by her side, so I could see her chest and monitor her breathing better. As I moved it, her eyelids fluttered briefly, and she whimpered. Her unaffected eye cracked open and as our gaze met. Her body spasmed as if shocked by an electrical current. To me it felt like all the hair on my body stood on end.

"It's all right, Miss. You're safe now," I reassured her in my calmest voice.

I quickly shrugged my arms out of my uniform jacket, trying to cover her with the inadequate amount of warmth I had to offer.

"We're the police. I'm Officer Cullen. An ambulance is on its way."

Her grazed and bloody hand shot out, clutching a handful of the front of my uniform shirt. Her lips cracked open, weeping blood anew.

"Duh…D…Da…dee?" she whispered in a hoarse voice, "…come…take me to heaven?" With that question fading in the air around us, her grip became boneless as she sunk back into unconsciousness.


	3. Chapter 2

**Thanks again to Project Team Beta for the invaluable assistance. My beta's on this one were Izzzyy and Onlybythenight1. **

**Sorry it's short, but it is important, nontheless. Lots of clues in here.**

**Thanks again also to the girlies at ATM, your encouragement means a lot xxx**

**As always, SMeyer owns it all. I just have an Eclipse calender I drool over.**

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******Chapter 2**

_**Bella**_

I was having the strangest dream. I dreamt I was wearing a blue gingham dress. The skirt flared out with layers of rustling petticoats, and over the top of my dress, I had on a starched white bib apron. My hair was held back off my face with a black velvet head band. Looking down, I caught a peek of my white knee socks and black Mary Janes. I hadn't worn knee socks since kindergarten, and I wasn't sure I even owned a pair of Mary Janes.

_It must be Halloween_, I thought to myself. Trust my mother to pick something so girly; I wondered what my bribe would be this time for going along with her craziness.

Directly in front of me was a gnarled tree with a yawning opening between its thick, serpentine roots. As I bent slightly from the waist, attempting to get a better idea of where the opening lead to, I was violently shoved from behind. My arms flailed wildly as I felt myself falling down the hole into the engulfing embrace of blackness.

I fell for what seemed like hours, until the screaming panic in my mind was abruptly cut off with the sudden realisation that I could feel a cold, hard floor underneath me. I still could not see; even after blinking several times my vision remained unaltered. I only saw depthless, inky black. I tried to move my arm to rub my eyes, only to find myself restrained, tied hand and foot flush against a frigid concrete surface.

_My Mom was going to be so mad that I ruined my Halloween costume_, I thought randomly. As soon as my brain flicked to my mother, nagging, but half-formed comprehension followed rapidly on its coattails, big and frightening in its enormity.

I struggled restlessly against my bonds, trying to free myself. I could feel my wrists and ankles becoming progressively more chaffed and sore, until eventually they became slick with blood. The extra lubrication my blood provided made it easier to move my wrists against each other, and after some painful manipulation over what seemed like countless hours, I slid first one hand out of the rope and then the other with a crow of triumph.

I set to work on the knots binding my ankles. The nylon was tightly cinched, and soon my fingertips were worn and bleeding from the abrasive friction against the unforgiving material. It took even longer to get my feet free than it did my hands. I lay panting with relief, relishing the painful pins and needles sensation that came with my freedom.

Time moved oddly in dreams, I marvelled, because next I was aware, a strange figure stood before me in a halo of yellowish light. I knew this man…my sluggish brain tried desperately to make the necessary connections. It was Snape-Professor Snape from Harry Potter. I must be Harry, because he was not happy with me at all. In fact, he was enraged. I tried to crawl away, retreating further into the blackness surrounding me. He whipped his wand out from his cloak pocket, and the next thing I knew my leg was on fire.

_He was trying to use an unforgivable curse on me!_ I thought with shock. He aimed his wand at me again and the fire engulfed my arm. I was being consumed by flames, hungrily licking throughout my body. I could hear him shouting curses, the sound drowned out by wails around us. _We must be in the Shrieking_ _Shack_, I thought idly as he raised his wand the final time to my head, before my vision was obliterated by the conflagration around and inside of me.

Now I was floating, again blind but also blissfully peaceful. The fire in my limbs had mercifully ceased and I revelled in the respite. This part of the dream was heavenly, and I let my mind drift as my body did the same.

My ears were working fine, though, because I became aware of the unintelligible buzz of someone talking in the ethereal haze around me. I tried to extend my other senses. I could smell Old Spice and leather and something else, something tantalisingly familiar. Slightly greasy; was it oil? Gun oil, I thought victoriously, that odd mix of carbon, metal and lubricant.

Finally, my eyes began to co-operate with my sluggish brain in some small fashion. I caught a glimpse of something else familiar, blue cotton with navy patches. My synapses sparked frantically to life and a sense of comfort and security washed over me. Home-these things meant home!

Finally the puzzle pieces seemed to mesh, and I knew who this final dream apparition was. _Charlie was here to wake me from this odd nightmare_, I though with relief, allowing myself to slip back into my floating peaceful reverie.


	4. Chapter 3

**My undying gratitude to Bower_of_Bliss, who is more than just a Beta. She takes my raw ingredients and makes a gourmet**** meal**. **I'm sure she never sleeps**.

**Thanks also to Rags88 and Phoenixjedi**

**Hugs and gushy feelings to all of you who have been kind enought to leave a review : Detochkina, Go Ask Alix, aabc, Sacred Datura, LynsBaby, Caitie126 & Midday Moonlight.**

**You all know the drill by now. Smeyer owns the lot. I just have an obsession I share with a lot of others.**

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******Chapter 3**

_**Edward**_

Together, we worked the scene like a well-oiled machine. Jasper Whitlock and I had been partners for three years. We have worked together since I finished my probationary period, after I graduated from The Academy. A couple of years older than me, Jasper was the perfect mentor and superior. He was an experienced officer with a helpful knack for skillfully managing people while they remained oblivious to his subtle manipulations; he had what my mother referred to as charisma. With his rational and level headed manner, he could calm the most unpredictable situations. In more volatile circumstances, he responded swiftly, displaying a level of physicality and finesse of execution his unassuming persona barely hinted at.

Jasper was also logical and astute, and had formidable skills that made him the perfect foot soldier for law enforcement. I admired him greatly and made the most of every opportunity to learn from him. We had a good working relationship, almost like an old married couple as my sister often jested with a trace of suppressed jealousy. She didn't like sharing her husband with anyone, let alone her brother.

Jeff had attempted to film the medics loading our victim into the ambulance before Jasper approached him and quietly whispered into his ear.

"What the fuck, man?" he whined. "Do you know how much news teams pay for this stuff?"

After a withering look from Jasper, Jeff forcefully punched the keys on his phone deleting the offending images, as he muttered curses under his breath.

After the ambulance left with our Jane Doe, we gathered statements from the still wide-eyed youths as we waited for the scene investigation team to arrive. Not every case got the full treatment of a complete forensic team, but the absence of a car, clothing or other personal belongings suggested this girl did not come willingly to this isolated location. Given the severe nature of her injuries, if she did not survive, a possible kidnapping scenario could snow ball into a case for murder.

I put out a call for another squad car to come and drive our group of young witnesses home. Hours later, we had finally seen them stowed into a squad car and on their way. We had also assisted the scene investigation team to set up their equipment, before leaving them behind to work their magic. As we climbed into our car to make our way over to the hospital, I wearily scrubbed my hands over my face.

Even before this call out, it had been an eventful shift. Our night had started with a domestic dispute after some loser got drunk, then gambled away his pay check in some dive. Usually, it was the drunk who took out his guilt and anger on the 'little woman'. This time, however, it was a 250 pound tower of unbridled rage wearing a terry toweling housecoat and foam hair curlers, who took her errant husband to task with a cast iron sandwich maker. It would have almost been funny, if not for the pinched looks of the three thin, ragged kids who all cried as their mommy was put in a squad car and their daddy in an ambulance.

We had also served several traffic infringements on the course of our patrol. Being a Friday night -or rather, early Saturday morning- this meant car loads of barely legal teenagers could be found driving around in unroadworthy death traps. Invariably, some argumentative passenger had to defend his pal by smart mouthing us and trying to get out of the ticket. It took all my restraint and Jasper's calming but watchful presence to rein in my natural intolerance for idiocy. However, I did get a laugh from a car load of purple haired 'senior' ladies. They were on their way to a quilting convention, and offered to take me into the backseat of their car and make it 'worth my while' to work off the ticket that I had just issued to them for broken tail lights.

We had also been summoned to an all-night drug store that was located within a strip mall. A twitchy thirty-something year old man had been detained by a vigilante store attendant for shop lifting. When we had arrived, the offender was vehemently protesting his innocence, even as his army surplus coat bulged with the poorly concealed items. He tried to make a run for it, forcing me to give chase. As I tackled him to the ground, I discovered that some of his booty consisted of cheap aftershave, when a pungent cloud suddenly enveloped us both. Still, as Jasper so kindly reminded me with a chuckle, it was better than smelling like vomit.

At the hospital, we headed for the trauma unit to meet with the doctor, so we could obtain an update on our vic. We were directed to take a seat on some uncomfortable-looking molded plastic chairs. Jasper briefly wandered off, returning with two foam cups of coffee and some cellophane wrapped sandwiches. I accepted my share gratefully; this would, more than likely, be our only 'break' for the shift.

Eventually an exotic but intense looking woman came striding towards us. She stripped off a yellow disposable protective gown as she approached.

"I'm Doctor Leah Clearwater, supervising trauma consultant. Are you two here about the Jane Doe from the wharf?"

We introduced ourselves, and shook hands with her.

"Well, this one's lucky she's not heading for the morgue. She sustained some sort of blunt force trauma to the left temporal region above her ear, which has caused a significant brain contusion. She also has a fractured zygoma, or cheekbone. Her right upper arm bone is also broken, and her left shoulder is dislocated. She has traumatic compound fractures of her right femur, tibia and fibula. In other words, all the bones in that leg have been broken, both above and below the knee."

In a brisk voice, she continued to reel off a litany of injuries. "She has deep lacerations to both wrists and ankles, probably from a synthetic rope, along with extensive contusions and assorted lacerations. She has lost a fair amount of blood. They've just taken her into surgery to pin and plate her arm and leg, and she will need a blood transfusion."

"How long do you think she was down there for?" Jasper asked, as I furiously scribbled more notes.

"Judging from the level of dehydration and the appearance of some of the bruising, I'd guesstimate about two to three days, maximum. The head injury was fairly recent, though. It was probably sustained only a few hours prior to her arrival here."

"Did she regain consciousness at any stage?" I asked, thinking of her garbled question when we found her.

"No, and it is unlikely she will anytime soon. The type of brain contusion she is suffering from will take some time to resolve. It is likely to affect her memory in some way and may impact on her language skills and comprehension. Sometimes, this level of injury can affect aspects of the personality, too. So even if she regains consciousness, she may not be able to give you much in the way of useful information. We won't know anything for certain for a few days at least."

"What about possible age and features that may help us identify her?" I questioned, wanting confirmation of my brief observations.

"Well, she appears to be in her late teens to early twenties. Brown eyes, brown hair and fair skinned. She's approximately five-foot-four and about 100 to 110 pounds, I'd say. She has all her own teeth by the look of things. There were no obvious tattoos or scars, but with all the bruising, I can't be absolutely sure. No jewelry was found on her, either. I would say that prior to the assault, she was well-nourished. There were no signs of sexual assault, but we did a rape assessment just to be certain."

Jasper fished for more details. "Other than the head contusion, do you have any ideas on the cause of her injuries?"

"The shoulder dislocation and spiral fracture of her arm were probably caused by excessive twisting. This type of damage is most likely to occur when someone's arms are tied behind their back. As I stated before, the patient has significant ligature wounds on her wrists , indicating she was restrained for an extensive period. The leg…well, that's the really disgusting part. The dried blood on her leg had peculiar patterns in it. One of our x-ray techs used to work in the radiology department of an animal hospital. He said it looked like something or someone had licked it; you know, just as animals do when they've been injured to help clean out the wound. We took swabs and pictures of it too, just in case. You might be able to get some saliva samples or something. When we washed her leg, prior to surgery, we also saw some unusual patterns in the bruising, but we'll have to observe them over a few days to be sure of the cause."

"The cause? What do you think caused it?" I asked.

Dr. Clearwater's lip curled with distaste as she almost spat out her reply. "The bastard either stomped or jumped on her leg. Not once, but twice..."

**So, intrepid reader, I have a question for you. What kind of car do you think Jasper would own?**


	5. Chapter 4

**I want to convey my heartfelt thanks to Bower_of_Bliss, for her beta-ing, support, advice & honesty. She is my yard stick when it comes to all matters fanfic & writing.**

**Thanks also to Ragsstone and ShowtunesJesus.**

**Although I have been fortunate enough to have a fantastic team working with me, any omissions, inaccuracies or errors are solely my own.**

**SMeyer owns the original twi-universe. I just have a notebook full of her characters alternate life in the Ang-universe. **

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**C****hapter 4**

_**Edward**_

Hours later, I was still tossing and turning in my bed. For me, it had always been difficult to come down from the adrenaline rush of a busy watch. I frequently struggled with changing mental gears. Unlike work, my brain had no equivalent for punching a time card. I continued to turn over information and impressions unconsciously but methodically, dissecting and analyzing scenes. Physical exhaustion sometimes overrode my mental gymnastics, but not today.

About an hour before our watch had been due to end, we left the hospital and returned to the precinct. It had taken three hours to write up and enter all of our logged cases into the database. We had then handed over to second watch, who would try to follow up identifying our Jane Doe. The investigation could not really progress further without an ID on her. We couldn't pursue her alleged attacker until we had interviewed her, gaining an outline of what had occurred.

Whenever I closed my eyes, I saw her pale and limp, lying on the dirty concrete floor. I was unable to get the image of the battered girl out of my head.

_How long had she lain there all alone in the cold, dark and dampness?_ _On the other hand, how long had she been there with her captor, being tormented physically and psychologically…or worse?_

_How can anyone gain pleasure from indulging in the torture of others?_

_Does she have parents and friends waiting anxiously for some word of her? _

_Can she ever completely recover from the consequences of such a horrific situation, and how will those close to her react?_

Although, as cops, we saw distressing and violent occurrences on an almost daily basis, the wanton cruelty humans perpetrated against others always hit hard. In this job, you quickly learned to build a toughened veneer over your feelings and to suppress all emotion. This enabled you to act in a professional but somewhat detached manner, or else be swamped by aspects of the job that often entailed brutality, suffering and misery. Sometimes, more than others, it was harder to maintain the protective mask.

I tried repeatedly to alter my train of thought to something less somber, and eventually I sank into a fitful sleep.

I woke sometime later cotton-mouthed and disoriented. The ridiculous work hours seriously messed with my natural circadian rhythms. Waking in the pitch blackness of night, it took me a minute to work out the time, as I tried to ascertain what woke me. A rattling to my right alerted me to my phone, as it vibrated on the nightstand. I had switched it to silent before climbing into bed. Checking the screen, I dialed the number to retrieve the voice message. It was from our sergeant. The Burglary and Theft Unit had seconded some officers to help cover 'investigation duties'…in other words, 'grunt work.' According to the sergeant, some group or gang had been hauling off free standing automatic bank teller machines from grocers and gas stations. Jasper and I had been recalled for another two shifts of first watch to make up for the staff shortfall.

I fought against the urge to hurl something against the wall in a fit of rage. The extra pay was always welcome, but there would be no extra furlough or other compensation.

_At least we will have more paid time to follow up on the Jane Doe case_, I thought, trying to find some consolation in the situation.

Although it was almost midnight, I couldn't stomach the thought of eating supper. I stuck to my usual first watch routine. I consumed a bowl of cereal and a large glass of juice before leaving my cozy apartment for the main house. As a child, I had watched endless reruns of 'Happy Days', and for a long time my hero was 'The Fonz'. When my parents bought this house, I immediately begged for the loft space above the garage to be converted into a room, just like the one my idol had had at the Cunninghams'. It took several years of pleading, but finally on my fifteenth birthday, I had my own self-contained apartment overlooking the pool.

I headed straight for the basement to our fully equipped and sound-proofed home gym. Picking up the remote, I kicked the stereo up to full blast and began my warm up routine. After putting in a solid hour, I went back to my loft for a long shower. When I was finally ready to leave for work, I slung my backpack full of work gear over my shoulder and went down to the garage. I put my bag on the back seat and backed my Volvo out in the driveway. I got a lot of ribbing from some of the guys at the station about my choice of car. Apparently, Volvo's were only suitable for old people or gay men with poodles. After serving a couple of months with the traffic Collision Unit cleaning up after fatalities during my probationary rotations, I decided that surviving a crash was much more important than looking cool. Cleaning up after horrific road fatalities tended to have that effect.

Jasper emerged from the house, and we drove to work in companionable silence. My sister and brother-in-law lived in the main house, as did my brother and his wife. We lived in a unique household. Although we were now all adults, we still resided at home with our parents; my siblings eventually brought their spouses along to join the fold. My parents' home was large enough for everyone to have their own private suite of rooms; we all got along and managed to live together without intruding into each other's personal space and lives. We often shared the household tasks and responsibilities. My mother joked it was like living in an upscale commune. Others might see us as odd or consider us freeloaders, but it worked for all of us.

Being a Saturday night…or rather, early Sunday morning (I would never get used to working these crazy, anti-social hours) the start of our watch was again eventful. We dealt with our fair share of drunken louts, street brawls, and vandalism in progress reports. By eight that morning, we had logged all of our previous jobs. The trouble makers seemed to have finally called it a night and crawled off to bed, leaving behind a quiet lull in our activities. We decided to take the opportunity to grab a coffee and sat down together at our shared work station. I pulled out a manila folder to see if our Jane Doe from last night had been identified.

Peter and Kate, our second watch counterparts, and had been assigned the follow up on our unresolved case. They had started searching missing person reports for girls aged seventeen to twenty-five. Annually, up to two thousand people are reported missing in the state alone, and our Jane Doe might not even be a local. Without a name to condense the list, you had to manually search using physical descriptors.

They had short listed over one hundred and fifty potential candidates. Peter and Kate had then started to call each precinct where the report was originally listed to see if the person had turned up or was still genuinely unaccounted for. It was tedious and time consuming work. They had left a note in the file informing us that in our local area, no new reports fitting our Jane Doe's description had come in within the last four days. They had barely put a dent in the remaining list of names.

We decided to head over to the hospital to collect the preliminary medical report, so we could add it to our case notes. We hoped to have an opportunity to interview our vic; that is, if she was conscious yet. A name, at least, would give us some sort of starting point for our investigation.

We parked our squad car in the bay reserved for emergency services, and then made our way up to the unit where the girl had been transferred, following her surgery. After enquiring at the ward desk, we were directed to our Jane Doe's room. We were told that the nurse caring for her had the documentation we needed.

The room contained two beds separated by a curtain, which was currently drawn. On the bed closest to the door was an elderly lady, her hair a frizzy white halo around her thin and wrinkled face. Her head was thrown back, her false teeth loose in her mouth as she snored like a sleeping grizzly bear. A nurse dressed in pale blue scrubs scribbled in a stack of files that were perched precariously on an over-bed tray. The table was positioned at the juncture of the drawn curtain, giving her a clear view of both of her charges. She looked up as we entered, noting our uniforms as we approached.

"Hi, I'm Wendy. You must be here about our anonymous girl."

Jasper did the introductions as Wendy handed over the thick sheaf of papers that listed the victim's various injuries. The diagram alone was a stark reminder of her ordeal. Almost every inch inside the standard human outline was shaded in, indicating some wound or damage. The space outside the diagram was covered in neat handwriting that detailed each bruise, graze and laceration, along with the lengthy list of medical treatment required.

Wendy reported that although the girl had roused briefly after the anesthetic, she became so agitated that the doctors were worried her uncontrolled movement would interfere with her newly repaired fractures. She had therefore been heavily sedated since. Step by step, Jasper went over the medical report with the nurse. I moved closer to the far side of the room behind the drawn curtain, where I surmised our Jane was concealed.

She lay motionless on the bed. Her petite frame barely seemed to distort the starched white sheet that covered most of her body. She was dressed in a shapeless white hospital gown. The gown accentuated her pallid skin where not blemished by the now spectacular array of bruises. The air of frailty surrounding her was further emphasized by the bulkiness of a fabric and Velcro splint visible on one arm, and the hip to toe plaster cast that was plainly obvious, even hidden under the sheet.

I moved closer to the bed. I was curious and wanted to get a better look at her face. Last time my inspection of her had been imperfect due to the shadowy light, the dirt and blood, and the matted curtain of her hair. Her hair was still a mess. It had dried in stringy clumps that had been massed to one side, exposing a row of small, neat stitches above her ear. The ear itself was also tricolored. I could never have imagined an ear could bruise in such a way, before actually seeing it with my own eyes.

Her left eye was still swollen with a significant shiner. I could now see her eyelashes though; long, thick and curved sable brown, as they fluttered minutely against her delicate high cheek bones. Her lips were also slightly puffy. The split on her swollen lower lip was covered by a thick, bloodied scab.

It seemed as though tubes of all sizes crisscrossed her body. One delivered oxygen to the prongs in her nose. An opaque tube dripped blood into her arm through a needle visible just above the heavy bandages covering her wrists. Those bandages probably covered the vicious friction wounds caused by ropes that had bound her. More lines snaked below her gown, leading to a heart monitor quietly flashing mysterious readings on an overhead shelf. Another tube emerged from below the sheet and led to a bag that looked as though it might collect urine.

She looked so vulnerable, overwhelmed by equipment and injuries. There was no one comforting her or keeping silent vigil, I observed with a pang of silent emotion.

I had just moved to return to where Jasper was still speaking with the nurse, when I caught subtle movement from my peripheral vision. The girl had begun to twitch restlessly, the fluttering of her eyelids even more pronounced. Her lips pulled to a grimace, and I could hear her making a low whimpering noise. The twitch became a thrash, and I stepped toward her.

_Is she dreaming, or is she in pain?_

Something tugged at me. I felt helpless in the face of her unconscious distress in a way I had never experienced before…even in the thick of a scene.

Before my mind even registered what my body was doing, I stepped closer to her side. My hand reached out to touch the only bit of exposed flesh free of scabs, contusions or tubes. Using the back of my fingers, I hesitantly stroked down the outside of her forearm, gentle shushing sounds emerging unbidden from my throat. She flinched, and her drug clouded eyes opened half way, giving me a brief glimpse of the rich brown of her irises. She stared fixedly at my uniform, before her whole body visibly relaxed. She sighed deeply, and then once again closed her eyes.

Immediately alert to any change in her patient, Wendy was at my side before I had even registered her approach. I had been too engrossed with the fragile form in front of me to notice.

"That's the first time she has settled so quickly," she said with a slight note of admiration in her voice.

"So far, every time she has surfaced she's been so distressed that we've had to bomb her out with sedatives. I guess that recently, all she has known from human contact is pain. She must like you. I think I'll have to keep you here for the rest of my shift," she said with a wink.

As we left the hospital, my mind lingered on the fragile girl inside, surrounded in ghostly white. Something about her plight resonated within me.

_She didn't deserve this_.

Truly, no-one deserved to be treated with such cruelty and flagrant disregard, but my gut feeling was that this girl, in particular, had done nothing to warrant becoming a target for such violent attention.

I felt a flare of anger spring to life as I my thoughts turned to the monster who had put her there. Monsters roamed everywhere…it could be the man who sat next to you on the subway every night, or the woman who packed your bags at the store. They were innocuous, friendly, not in the least bit scary-looking. This ability to blend in was what made their crimes so horrifying; people never suspected them, and therefore did not protect themselves against their predations. Well, this predator had brought himself some serious attention.

We needed- no… _**I**__ …_needed to find and stop this one personally.


	6. Chapter 5

**My thanks firstly to Bower_of_Bliss, who was my beta for this chapter. I will always be in awe of her knowledge and talent in so many things.**

**Any errors, omissions or inaccuracies are a manifestation of my stubbornness, and in no way reflect on the competency and skill of my beta.**

**I want to say how amazed I have been by the number of new readers. For those of you pimping, thanks! For those of you who review, I LOVE YOU! Because so many of you went to the effort of giving me such lovely feedback, I decided to post another chapter early, as a reward for good behaviour.**

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**Chapter 5**

_**Bella**_

I was dreaming again. At first, I was plummeting through an abyss, falling down to the center of the earth. Then, I was being chased by Professor Snape, until he finished me with the Killing curse.

Over and over the dream replayed, as my mind raced with perpetual terror. At last, I was pulled from my nightmare by a flash of something familiar, comforting and blue.

_I'm saved and safe_, I thought with a sigh of relief.

As my unease melted away with the nightmare, my fuddled brain tried to make sense of my scattered thoughts.

_Why was it so hard to think?_

I felt like my brain had been frozen, hit by a mallet until it shattered, and the shards strewn to the four winds. Random thoughts surfaced from the murkiness but were quickly lost, before I could latch onto them and take a closer look. There were wide gaps in my memory, where everything seemed cloaked in blackness. Eventually, I drifted again, unfettered.

Then suddenly, the fire returned, racing throughout my body, rousing me to fresh agony. I could feel someone nearby. They were fiddling with whatever bindings I was trussed with now, tying me to this endless world of twilight. Finally, the pain receded, and my flesh merely prickled and throbbed instead of screamed; the agonizing aftermath of the burns inflicted on me by Snape's wand.

Bit by bit the blackness faded, and I could open my eyes and fix on the face of the person hovering nearby.

"Awake then, sweetie? Just in time, too. I need to clean you up, make you look human again."

The woman smiling down at me had a pleasant face. She was dressed in a blue sack like thing and matching pants, like unisex pajamas. I'm sure those things had a specific name, but for the life of me, I couldn't fish it out from the shallow pond of my memory. She bustled about the compact space with a determined air, gathering various items and placing them on a wheeled tray.

She then peeled the sheet back and painstakingly detached leads, tubing and other attachments to undress me.

I looked down at myself in shock. I was maimed, totally helpless, and now completely naked in front of this nice, but nonetheless, total stranger. I was now wholly reliant on someone else for the most intimate things. I scrunched my eyes closed, causing a sharp pain in my left eye. Stinging, hot tears leaked out across my cheeks, and began dripping into my ears. I couldn't even wipe them away. One arm was weighed down by some sort of brace, and the other had a tight binding that restricted movement in my shoulder, making it difficult to lift my arm.

Something had happened to me, and obviously it was really bad. However, when I tried to recall it, my mind was empty. All I could summon up was my recurring nightmare, and some vague, shadowy images.

The woman, who told me her name was Wendy, was sympathetic to my distress. She tenderly wiped my face with a warm washcloth as she explained that I had been in an accident, and was now in the hospital. With great care, she cleaned every inch of skin not covered with a bandage, plaster or splint, and changed the water in the metal bowl several times as it became too dirty to be of use.

As Wendy tended to me, she kept up a steady dialogue. She explained my injuries and treatment, what all the equipment was for, and what would come next in my physical recovery. She declared I was extremely lucky, and fortunate that I didn't have internal injuries or broken any ribs, as apparently they 'hurt like a bitch'.

Once I was clean enough to gain Wendy's approval, she dressed me in a soft flowery cotton gown which had Velcro fastenings at each shoulder. Wendy told me that she had borrowed it from another ward and smuggled it in, explaining that white made me look like a Goth. As she carefully rolled me like a log to change the linens beneath me, she also explained that they didn't know my name, so I had been listed as 'Jane Doe'.

Using an odd slide sheet, she pulled me up to the top of the bed so my head was almost hanging off the end. She then proceeded to wash my long hair. Although it was painful at times, such as when she touched a bruised area or my stitches, her fingers massaging my scalp felt heavenly. After towel drying my hair and repositioning me, she spread my heavy tresses on another clean towel to air dry.

Finally, I was washed, reattached to everything and cozily tucked up in my bed. I tried to express my gratitude to Wendy for her care and thoughtfulness. However, all that came from my mouth was a horrible grunt. My eyes overflowed once again, and I tried to form words, again without success.

"Don't strain yourself, sweetie," she consoled. "Sometimes head injuries can temporarily affect your speech." She patted my hand in sympathy before asking if I could remember my name. I racked my brain, my thoughts becoming even more sluggish as exhaustion threatened to overwhelm me. The emptiness in my head overflowed. I shook my head causing a sickening sense of vertigo, a fresh wave of misery pouring out with my tears.

Wendy did her best to reassure me that once my sedation and pain relieving medications were reduced, and my brain injury given time to improve, things would eventually come back to me.

As she left my cubicle to dispose of the dirty laundry, I clung to that thread of hope. I could almost see the elephant that danced lazily in the empty space in my mind, waiting for the big reveal. I knew some important facts, such as my name and how I ended up here, lurked in the wings, cuddled up with the elephant.

_It's imperative I remember these things_, I thought, as sleep started to drag me down again. My last thought, as I surrendered to that need, was a vague memory of a saying.

_The truth will set you free._

Why then, did I feel so uneasy about the elephant that had encamped in the hole my memory once occupied?


	7. Chapter 6

**Thanks once again to my PTB beta's Ragsstone and ShowtunesJesus**

**Yay to Shazzio and Mother Wolf for popping their review cherries! **

**Thanks to the other ATM girlies for the theories, bolstering and support; you keep me going.**

**Of course, SMeyer dreamed this all up. My dreams of Edward involve a bit more than sparkling ;)**

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**Chapter 6**

_**Edward**_

It was controlled chaos in the kitchen. Sunday supper was somewhat of a tradition in the Cullen compound. Although we all lived in the same house, between our diverse jobs and social lives, sometimes Sunday was the only consistent day we got to spend time with each other. To accommodate our rotation onto first watch, supper had been changed to lunch so Jasper and I would not miss out.

The kitchen could easily match the quality of any restaurant, with commercial ovens and cook tops, long stainless steel counters and a large island bench with a double sink. Mom and Rose, my sister-in-law, were at the stove stirring pots, deep in a hushed conversation. Dad was downstairs in the cellar, selecting wine. Alice and I were buttering biscuits, adding them to a growing mountain on a large platter. Jasper and my brother, Emmett, flicked each other with water as they rinsed the salad greens.

I loved Sundays. After working all week, seeing people act out the basest of behaviors and desires on others, and at the expense of others, I needed this time to let go of it all and regroup. The banter, the company, even the very ordinary-ness acted like a balm. It reminded me that in a crazy world, sanity exists; that not everyone was out for themselves, that tragedy could be overcome, and there could be a new beginning. Our family was the product of tragedies, as almost all of us had been unwanted at one time or another. I think that is why we stuck together so closely, maintaining our insular family unit. Having once had no one else, we realized the importance of family.

In time, we sat among the detritus of an enthusiastically demolished meal, drinking coffee as Emmett finished off his second helping of dessert. In between mouthfuls, he was regaling us with stories of 'his kids' at the elementary school, where he worked as a counselor. He was describing the kids' reactions to road safety week activities.

"So, we were teaching them about the evils of drinking and driving when Davey Thompson puffs out his chest and interrupts Miss Marley. He says his dad _never _drinks and drives, he always waits until they get to the traffic lights to take a swig of his beer! Then, Jennifer Paton starts crying 'cause her mom takes a travel mug full of coffee with her every time she gets in the car. She's worried she'll get caught and end up in jail."

Jasper and I started talking about the lamest excuses we had heard for drunk driving and speeding, before Jasper launched into the story of my impromptu pursuit of our recent drug store bandit.

"…So Edward takes off like a bullet after this perp, who has half the cosmetics counter shoved down his pants or in his pockets. I swear, the idiot looked like Yosemite Sam, he was so bow legged. His excuse was that he was taking his new girlfriend on a date. Smooth, this one; he was going to take her to his court appearance for his last hook! She turned him down initially because he stank, so instead of taking a shower or changing his clothes, he lifts a selection of cheap cologne. When Edward crash-tackled him, some of the bottles broke, and he got a free bath in 'Eu De Cheapskate.'."

I groaned at the memory, the sound dwarfed by their laughter.

"When we got back to the precinct," Jasper continued, "as soon as we walk in the door Garrett starts up with the 'Hello, ladies, look at your man, now back to me, now back at your man, now back at me, sadly he isn't me.'."

Emmett laughed so hard, he started gasping.

My mom sighed dreamily. "Old Spice always reminds me of my dad; he wore it every day. Just a whiff takes me back to memories of him sitting in his chair, a half burnt tobacco pipe in the ashtray as he slept in front of the television after dinner." Her face took on a mischievous look, as one perfectly sculpted brow rose. "The old ads used to say 'If your Grandfather hadn't worn it, you wouldn't be here!'."

"I don't know anyone under fifty who wears that stuff, even with that gorgeous hunk of man meat in their ads," Alice added.

Eventually, dinner over and dishes done, I went to bed, setting the alarm on my phone so I had enough time for my workout before our last night of first watch. Content, with a belly full and my mind emptied, I fell asleep quickly.

As I dreamed, my brain spooled out vivid replays of things, good and bad. My subconscious brain dragged out and enlarged details my alert brain passed over, making connections and setting off figurative light bulbs. I woke with a start, the theory my sleeping brain had dredged up fresh and clear in my mind. I kept a notepad on my nightstand for when work phoned me unexpectedly. I made hasty use of it now, grabbing it and scrawling notes before my recollection of the dream dissipated. When I finished, I tore the page off and shoved it into my work bag before immersing myself in my pre-work routine.

At work, as soon as we had received our detailed brief for the shift, I sat at our work station looking through the department phone contacts for the number I needed. Jasper sat facing me, head bent over a stack of files and notes we had been assigned to follow up on or finish. After leaving a short voice message and hanging up, I searched the 'current' tray for the Jane Doe file. Without looking up from his task, Jasper spoke.

"I wouldn't have thought of that one; good pick up, Edward. Beats wading through missing persons reports, that's for sure."

I acknowledged his praise with a small nod, flicking through the folder to Peter and Kate's newest notes. Still no ID on our vic, and no new missing person's reports matching her description had been filed. They had phoned the hospital for an update on her condition and had written that she was now conscious most of the time but had no memory of her name and was unable to talk properly yet. We had been advised to check in daily, as her condition could improve at any time.

I checked the database for the crime scene reports, but they were still listed as 'pending'. At four a.m. on a Monday morning, this wasn't wholly unreasonable, since the administrative staff who entered the final reports into the database only worked regular office hours. Our vic was alive and unknown, so she was not listed as a high priority in the bigger scheme of things. Suppressing my frustration at the lack of progress and hard facts to act upon, I distracted myself with the never ending stream of tasks we had been assigned for the day.

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**I love it when you share your thoughts and theories with me. I showed you mine, now show me yours.**


	8. Chapter 7

**Thanks to my PTB beta's ShowtunesJesus and Ragsstone **

**Thank YOU, lovely readers, for your wonderful reviews. The more you give me, the more I write :)**

**Yes, Smeyer thought up the original concept. As they say, imitation is the highest form of flattery.**

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**Chapter 7**

_**Edward**_

I had spent my two days of furlough catching up on sleep, taking runs in the almost warm daylight, reading, and getting my ass kicked by Emmett. As a 'therapeutic tool,' Emmett had a Wii console in his office at school. He said it helped the kids relax and open up. I think he just liked to learn the latest cheats from them, so he would have new ways to torture the rest of us at home. There was a reason why Super Mario Brothers was his favored choice when he won the coin toss for game selection rights.

Jasper and I were back on our regular timetable of working from eleven in the morning until eight at night on second watch.

Although I enjoyed the break, I had been itching to get back to work to see if any new information had come in about the Jane Doe case. The scene reports should have arrived by now at least, and if my hunch had paid off, we might have a solid lead on who our mystery girl could be.

We arrived early, so before going to the meeting room for detail briefing, I headed straight to our workstation to find the right folder. With an inward burst of anticipation, I noted it was thicker, now containing several new reports added by Peter and Kate. I pored over the crime scene reports, finding a yellow legal pad to write down notes and impressions as I read. Before I could write much, however, Jasper interrupted, reminding me that it was time for our detail brief. Thankfully, we scored a relatively light load of duties, which would give us more time to follow up on our case. As soon as we were free, Jasper sat on his side of our workstation with a teetering pile of folders full of paper work to log into the database, while I went back to the scene reports.

Sometime later, I was jostled from my absorbed concentration by a blue clad butt positioning itself on my desk, half covering the reports I had spread across the surface.

"I can hear your brain ticking from the coffee machine across the room". Jasper put a cup of steaming coffee on the only spot on my desk not obscured by paper. "What you got, Columbo?" Jasper thought it was amusing to compare me to the TV dick, my total physical antithesis. The only thing we had in common was an eye for detail and our meticulousness.

I stretched out my long legs, bringing up my hands to rake through my hair as if to shake ideas out of my brain.

We often did this. Jasper would get me to do a read through before asking my impressions. He would then steer me in the right direction or work with me to construct a follow up plan. This system helped me develop and refine my investigative skills.

"The perp was familiar with the area since he used the rear alley for access to the warehouse. The alley entry isn't easy to find; it doglegs behind those ones off the main road." I showed Jasper the aerial map where I had highlighted the alley entry and our site. "He must have been there before because only a few of these places have basements. The port authority banned them because of the close proximity to the water. The tire impressions indicate he came in a car or light van and returned at least once." I turned to the computer shoved to the back edge of my desk and opened up a file of pictures showing the rear access road.

"He must have carried her in. No drag marks or wheel impressions from a trolley were observed, and the vic is only a featherweight. He didn't bother concealing or covering her as he took her in either; they found strands of her hair on the external door jam. He wasn't worried about being seen. It may have even been night time."

I pulled out a different report.

"She was probably down there for thirty-six to forty-eight hours. The medical report corresponds with this time estimate and forensics found evidence of fresh urine in the basement. No food residue or water containers were found at the scene, so she probably wasn't given either during this time."

I opened up a new grouping of JPEG files displaying views of the inside of the basement.

"She was restrained, probably nylon rope judging from the abrasions and grazes on her fingertips. The rope was tied through this loop in the floor." I pointed it out on the screen, enlarging the picture so Jasper could clearly see where the ancient paint had flaked off with the activity of the rope. There were also prints made by her bare feet concentrated around the loop.

"Somehow, she got free. You can see more footprints disturbing the dirt on the floor and on some of the flattened boxes. He removed everything he brought to the scene− the rope, the weapon, her clothes and purse if she had one. The absence of her clothes could indicate some sexual aspect, but the medical and forensic reports all came back negative for recent sexual activity or assault."

Jasper nodded. "So give me your feelings about this perp."

"This was planned and he meant to keep her. I think she worked herself out of the rope ties somehow, and when he came back and found her roaming, he got angry and lost it. He broke her leg on purpose to immobilize her or punish her. Hell, maybe both. I think he intended to come back, since he took the time to relock the door."

I picked up a Post-it note Kate had left.

"I think the rave party interrupted or delayed whatever he was going to do next. He probably didn't know it was happening, and then suddenly there were cars and kids everywhere around his nice private hidey hole. These rave things are organized by SMS messages, and group posts on Facebook and other sites. A scout picks a location, phones the crew, and five or six hours later the party starts. These things are very underground, hard to anticipate, hard to police. They disappear even quicker."

"Any physical pointers or evidence on our perp?" Jasper asked.

I flicked through a couple of pages. "Right handed, probably five-foot-nine to ten. They think he might have been wearing a protective coverall to avoid leaving physical evidence behind. The floor in the basement had other footprints than those of the vic; the forensic team matched it to a level B hazmat protective suit."

"That's good. They don't sell those at hardware chain stores. So, it looks like he didn't intend her to be found but was careful nonetheless."

Jasper pointed to the medical report. "That nurse, Wendy? She made an interesting comment that day while you were playing Momma Bear with our Jane after she started fussing. She said the scene must have looked like a blood bath, considering the girl's level of anemia. The docs estimate she lost about fifteen to thirty percent of her blood volume, which would be about two to three pints. They gave her two units of blood to replace what she lost. Look at the scene pics again."

I scrolled through the scene JPEGs, clicking and enlarging them to see better. There were various blood smears on the ground and on the collapsed boxes, which had been partially beneath her. There was a fine comet-like spray of blood on the rear wall of the room behind where she had fallen, probably caused when the perp struck her around the head. There was also a pool about the size of a dinner plate where her head had rested on the ground after she collapsed. I thought back to that night, picturing the blood on her skin, which had dried like Krazy Krackle glaze.

Jasper spoke again, jolting me back to the present. "It seemed a lot. It always does. Seeing _an_y blood sets off those internal alarm bells. But it doesn't look like almost three pints worth."

My brow furrowed in concentration as I stared fixedly at the screen, trying to see if the reality matched the medical estimate.

"Remember that Dr. Clearwater said it looked like the perp may have licked her leg?"

I nodded to Jasper's question.

"I don't think he just tasted. I think he collected it, or maybe even drank it. Wendy said that leg wound would have bled like a stuck pig."

I tried hard to keep the distaste from my voice. "What, so we've got some Vampire sicko on the loose?"

"It's possible," Jasper acknowledged with a shrug. "God knows there are more kinds of sickos out there than flavors of ice cream. Could have some sort of ties to the occult. We'll have to check into it, ask who the best person would be to talk to about this stuff."

Jasper had a network of contacts in the force all over the country. I didn't doubt that we would have a name and number before day's end.

"I'll email Eric, see if he can give us an estimate of the amount of blood at the scene," I offered, turning back to the computer. Eric Yorkie was the in-house expect on all matters pertaining to blood.

As I turned back to my computer screen, a small flashing window popped up alerting me to an incoming email. I quickly clicked on it to read my message. I had a small jolt of anticipation when I saw it was from Randall Blaney at c.o.p.s. [dot] org. Randall was the state representative of Concerns of Police Survivors, better known as C.O.P.S. This was a support and advocacy group for the families of officers who die whilst in active service.

After Sunday's lunch, something my mom had said percolated through my dreams when I finally went to sleep later that day. Mom said Old Spice reminded her of her dad. We found our vic after my escapade with the cologne thief, and I reeked of his haul. Our Jane wouldn't have been able to see much in the dim light, considering her eye was almost swollen shut. However, she would have been able to smell me and make out my uniform. I was sure she associated Old Spice with her dad just as Esme had, and thought I was her father. I would bet cold cash on the fact that he had been a cop, too. Since she thought I was taking her to heaven, I assumed he must have died.

I had contacted Randall after our last Sunday supper, hoping that he might know the dependent children of deceased cops in our area. I opened the message, which confirmed that C.O.P.S was currently providing support for five descendants of service men and women aged in our Jane Doe's target range of eighteen to twenty-one. Only three of those lived within the city and surrounding areas, and of those, only one was female.

Isabella Swan, date of birth listed as September thirteenth, 1989; she would now be twenty-one years old. She was the only child of Charles Swan, an officer stationed in Forks. He was killed while on patrol in 1995. His wife, Renee Swan, had died much more recently, leaving Isabella orphaned with no other relatives.

That gave me pause; to be so young and left all alone. Randall's message went on to say the girl was doing a double degree at the state university. She had received the C.O.P.S scholarship to assist her to continue with her studies, after her free education under her father's benefits expired on her twenty-first birthday. He had listed her address, a home phone number and an email address, but no cell phone number.

_Who these days doesn't have a cell phone? _I wondered.

I minimized the email, logging into the DMV database to see if I could find a photo ID of this Isabella Swan. No luck, she had never applied for a driver's license. This girl had no cell phone and no ticket to drive either, both very unusual.

Picking up the phone, I spent the next forty-five minutes being shuffled between various departments at the university. Privacy laws these days were a major hindrance; requests coming from the police department did not necessarily make doors open any quicker. The semester had finished over a week ago. Since the week prior had been the examination period, session attendance records weren't much help at narrowing down a time frame for our crime. Someone finally agreed to let me know the date when this Isabella Swan turned her last term paper in or sat an exam, but only after all the students' results were finally collated and recorded.

After a lot of ass kissing and the occasional thinly veiled threat, my in-box eventually dinged, indicating another incoming message. I opened it quickly to finally view Isabella Swan's student identification card. I enlarged the picture, studying the face intently.

The girl pictured had a heart-shaped face and pale ivory skin. Her long brown hair was held off her face with a headband. This girl had neat, almost straight brows, framing deep brown eyes fringed with dark lashes. Her lips had a very defined cupid's bow, and the bottom lip was slightly fuller than the top.

_Unpierced ears, that had to be uncommon, right?_ Every girl I could think of had pierced ears.

She was obviously very self-conscious about having her picture taken. Her restrained smile did not reach her eyes; they were guarded. This girl was pretty in a generic kind of way. Many of her features matched our Jane Doe, but I imagined that there could be a lot of brown-haired, brown-eyed college girls. I printed off a couple of colored copies anyway.

_A picture would not be enough for a positive ID, though,_ I thought as I sat staring at the photo of the girl while trying to think of another way to get a concrete identification.

I flipped through the already memorized medical report again, looking for scars and old injuries I knew weren't there; unpierced ears proved to be the only match. As I scanned the summary of X-rays, another idea occurred to me, and I again spent a frustrating amount of time on the phone. Finally, I got the result I wanted.

I looked at the clock in surprise, almost half the shift had passed already. I had been so submerged in the case, I had barely felt the passing of time. The next half hour crawled by painfully slowly, as if to taunt me for my past inattention. Finally, the forensic odontologist sent the email I had been waiting for with bated breath.

The state-funded health plan of one Charles Swan had indeed provided regular dental care for his dependent child, Isabella Swan. Her dental X-rays matched those taken of our Jane Doe during CT scanning attended for her recent head injuries.

Miss Doe was now Miss Swan.


	9. Chapter 8

**Thanks again to my PTB beta's Ragsstone and ShowtunesJesus. I love the little comments that come back with the edits :) They make me smile.**

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**As always, SMeyer had a dream and here we are. **

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**Chapter 8**

_**Bella**_

The policemen were back again. I only thought 'again' because Wendy, my nurse and fairy godmother, explained that these were the two who found me. I searched in the empty that filled my head and came up with barely recalled shadowy images cloaked in blue. The two policemen were also wearing blue, so I supposed they could be the same ones.

The taller one said hello first, concern in his voice as he asked how I was. He had unusual eyes, like the sea−greyish green and depthless. He took off his hat as he entered, like the gentlemen used to do in old movies. His hair was also distinctive−brown with red and gold bits, almost like fall leaves. There was a special name for this color, but I couldn't remember it. All that surfaced was chestnut, but that word belonged to horses, not striking-looking men. He looked like a movie star; too handsome for everyday people like me.

"You're really pretty," I blurted out. He looked in puzzlement to Wendy. I only paid some attention to the other policeman after he snorted at my announcement.

"You're cute, too, but not as much as him," I added in a conciliatory tone, pointing to his partner.

I couldn't shrug, there were too many things pulling my shoulders down.

Wendy explained something about my mental filter being a bit off, with my cracked head and all. I wasn't so sure, though. Maybe I was always like this?

I can't remember.

_I am broken; my head, my memories, my arm and leg, and now my filter, too. _

_What fixes broken things?_ I wondered.

Glue!

This time the word arrived easily. I needed glue to put my broken bits back together. I tried to remember to ask Wendy for some later, after those men left, not sure if the thought would stay long enough for me to act on it.

The tall one put out his hand, stating his name was Officer Cullen. I grasped the Cullen God's proffered hand in my left, since my right was still strapped into the brace. I held it awkwardly, staring at his long fingers with their clean and trimmed nails, mesmerized by how handsome they were, too. He stared at me as if he expected me to let go.

"You have nice hands, too," I said. "Soft and warm, and so _big,_" I marveled. I stroked his fingers as I continued to stare at them.

The other one tried unsuccessfully to suppress a laugh as the Cullen God changed color. I must have been doing something wrong, I realized, so I released his hand and tucked my now lonely one under the colorful quilt covering my legs.

The other one introduced himself as Officer Whitlock and asked me if I remembered my name.

"When I sleep, I am Alice," I replied mournfully. "When I am awake, I'm no one."

This made me feel sad, although I wasn't sure why. Officer Cute then asked me if I could recall what had happened to me. I tried hard to look into the space my memories used to come from, but it was empty. I shook my head, feeling tears beginning to ooze from my eyes.

The Cullen God sat on the empty chair next to my bed.

"We have found out who you are," he said gently. "You are Isabella Swan, and you are twenty-one years old."

I allowed the knowledge to sink in, to see if it fit. Something about his words was right, but also wrong. _Wrong, how?_ I puzzled.

"It's too big for me," I stammered. "It doesn't all fit."

The Cullen God went on regardless, pulling a piece of paper out of a light colored folder sitting on his lap.

"You are an English major at the University." His voice dropped, filling with a tone I didn't want to remember, but it was too familiar to ignore.

_The 'sorry' tone_, I thought, trying to stretch for the longer, more desirable and descriptive word.

English, he had told me, as I fiercely tried to distract myself from what he wanted to say next in that tone I dreaded. _Yes, that part is right, I like English. English is familiar, ordered, with rules to use. _That fit.

"Your father was Charles Swan, a police officer from a town called Forks." He paused, a brief hesitation as he searched my eyes, seeming to gauge my reaction.

"He died when you were six."

I ached in the emptiness of my head, as well as my heart. This, too, was familiar, and I nodded to confirm the Cullen God's words. This, too, was right.

The Cullen God swallowed thickly. "Your mother's name was Renee, and she…"

"Please stop," I whispered. "I don't want that to fit. Let it belong to the empty too," I pleaded.

He stopped, his eyes flicking to Wendy as they exchanged a look I tried hard not to see. He looked to his paper again and told me where I lived, asking my permission to search there for any signs of how I had gotten here. I nodded my agreement.

"Can you bring some of my things?" I asked. "I don't have anything. I'm not even wearing any underwear."

The Cullen God's eyes appeared ready to pop right out, and he seemed lost for words. Officer Cute stepped in, agreeing to recover my necessities, as his eyes sparked with barely hidden mirth.

There mustn't have been much more to my life as the Cullen God had run out of things to fit me with. They went. I wished he had held my hand again before he left.

I let the emptiness swirl in me for the rest of the day, trying to stir it up. The few small pieces of me the Officers had left behind bumped around in the vast space in my head.

Finally, just as I was drifting off to sleep, something appeared out of the empty.

"Bella," I whispered, "I am Bella."


	10. Chapter 9

**Thanks to my busy beta's from PTB, ShowtunesJesus and Ragsstone.**

**The super-talented and beta-ing extraordinare Bower_of_Bliss has started a new fic called 'Isle Esme 2412'. Very intriguing already and unlike anything I've read before in the fanfic universe. Go read it (after this chapter, of course!). I love how her labyrinthine mind works.**

**I know this site has been a bit temperamental this week, so sorry for the delayed replies to your reviews. If you weren't able to review during that time, please remember to go back and do so, I do read and reply to every one and love hearing what you think.**

**SMeyer owns the original. I wonder if she writes fanfic's with naughty bits on the sly? **

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**Chapter 9**

_**Edward**_

Jasper had been quietly impressed with my progress in obtaining a positive identification for our vic and had made me relay each step in reaching the conclusion on the way over to the hospital to visit her. Afterwards, he reported that he had managed to find a contact for the occult angle and had lined up a meeting with his 'associate' for that coming Saturday.

Our visit with Miss Swan had been interesting to say the least.

After telling Jasper of my recent discoveries, I had phoned ahead to check whether she was able to communicate adequately yet and if she was well enough to receive visitors. The nurse had informed me that our Jane was indeed verbal again, but still suffering significant symptoms and amnesia related to the head trauma. After some discussion between the nurse and me, we decided it might actually help our vic remember more now that we could confirm who she was.

When we were escorted into her half of the curtained hospital room, she was propped up on a pile of pillows, looking out the window to her left. Her hair had been washed and fell in a satiny russet sheet covering her shoulder and part of the brace on her arm, again obscuring her face. Her lower half was covered by a vibrant quilt. The white gown was also gone, replaced by a more cheery flowery print. The color around her enhanced the subtle tones of her visible skin. No longer covered in blood or dirt, nor pallid and sallow, her skin looked a creamy ivory where not interrupted by healing scrapes and bruises. As she heard us enter, she turned towards us, her hair swishing soundlessly over her shoulder.

She had the same heart-shaped face I had seen on her student card, and the same almost straight brows. The one on the left was still semi-distorted by the swelling around her eye and cheekbone. The bruising there was still lurid, but I could see the improvement from the last time we had seen her, just four short days prior. Her lips also looked better. No longer swollen or having that unhealthy bluish tinge, they were rosebud pink, although the lower was still split, but healing, judging by the smaller scab. I could now see that her bottom lip was indeed plumper than the top. This girl was not just pretty, she was…_more_.

It was her eyes though, that had stopped me in my tracks. No longer guarded, they were wide and guileless, limpid and brimming with every emotion that she felt. This Isabella was a totally open book, even though it seemed that currently each page was blank. Staring into the rich brown depths, I could sense that same tugging sensation in my chest that I felt last time we visited, when she was still unconscious. I felt drawn to her, as if she emitted some magnetic force. I hastily tried to suppress the surge of budding emotion, unsettled by these new unidentified feelings.

With considerable effort, I turned my attention to the helpful nurse, Wendy, who was reminding Isabella that we had been there when she was found. I remembered my manners and enquired after her health, just as my mother had drummed into me since childhood. She then hit my calm professional exterior with her pronouncement of my apparent 'prettiness.' I thought Mr.-Cool-and-Always-Collected Jasper was going to spontaneously erupt into hysterical laughter on the spot.

I had had many comments on my looks over the years, and it had gotten old, fast.

I had always been a bit peculiar looking as a kid. I had had weird-colored hair and mismatched features, like my slightly crooked nose and lopsided smile. However, once I turned fifteen, it seemed as if my body had transformed overnight. The dreaded acne had cleared, and I was at last free of the braces correcting my unattractive overbite. I had finally hit that elusive growth spurt that took me from gangly to athletic. The girls had taken notice of me at last, and I never lacked female notice and compliments, whether I wanted either or not. I always believed that attractiveness was simply the fortunate result of good genes or good luck. I didn't really have much say in it and did not dwell on it much, personally. I had been labeled lots of things before, like hot, handsome, and sexy. I could deal with these monikers, but pretty?

I would never live this down, even if Jasper didn't 'share' once we went back to the precinct.

Wendy made some aside about the girl's current lack of a mental filter, as I watched Isabella's brow furrow in concentration and determination as she tried hard to hold onto some unnamed thought. She seemed easily distracted.

I introduced myself, attempting to shake her hand. For all her apparent fragility, she had a strong grip. She clutched my hand firmly in her good one and refused to let mine go, before beginning to idly stoke my fingers with a feather-light touch. Under other circumstances, I would probably find this soothing, but her innocent gushing about my hand caused Jasper to lose his tenuous hold on his amusement. I could hear his barely suppressed guffaws as I blushed like some thirteen-year-old girl.

_What is wrong with me?_ I mentally berated myself. I hadn't gone red like that, even when I was a thirteen-year-old.

This girl had a strange effect on me. It was almost like she erased the usual me, making me forget every rule about the professional way to act and the right things to say.

She seemed to pick up on my discomfort and at last released my hand, hiding her own forlornly under the quilt. Despite my embarrassment, I felt an unnamed pang with the loss of contact.

My embarrassment soon dissipated when Jasper put on his 'serious cop' face again, and asked about her name. It was his turn to be surprised when she said she was Alice at night. It wasn't like Alice was a common name for girls these days. What were the odds that she would come up with a name his wife shared?

Yes, this girl was certainly unforgettable.

When she said she was no one, though, she seemed to crumple in on herself, misery and dejection oozing from every pore. Her eyes became shiny as the tears began to overflow in fat droplets splashing down her cheeks. Wendy had warned us that she was very emotional at times and wore out quickly−all common side effects of her head and other injuries.

Wanting to distract her from her obvious misery and move on to the business we had come for, I walked around the far side of the bed and folded myself into the waiting plastic seat. I explained that we had confirmed her identity, outlining the scanty details we had been given. Her face turned serious as she weighed the information I gave her. I could almost see the knowledge return to her, as she pondered each of my sentences, until it came to the details of her mother. I could see her remembered sadness when reminded of the passing of her father. She grew panicky when I started on the details of her mother though, begging me to skip it. Clearly, this was still too raw for her to process at this time, although she obviously had some inkling of the details I almost dumped on her.

I managed to get her permission to search her home for signs of her abduction before she blew all sane thoughts out of my head with her revelation about her lack of panties.

I had been sitting there this whole time holding a serious discussion with a half-naked girl.

If Jasper had been simply amused before, now he was gleefully observing the complete obliteration of my carefully constructed and maintained professional persona as I sat there gaping like a stunned fish. He quickly stepped into the breach, reassuring this bewitching wisp of a girl that we would indeed fetch the necessary items to restore her modesty. He then made our polite goodbyes and dragged me out of there, only to explode into uncontrolled laughter the minute we reached the safety of our car.

"Ah, I needed that," he said, wiping the tears from his eyes. "You should have seen your face, man!" He dissolved again as he took in my scowl. When he finally calmed down enough, he started the car.

"We've been working together for, what, three years? We have worked every type of crime and disaster since then. Since I met your sister, we've spent even more time together. I thought nothing fazed you, man, even that whole situation with the leech."

I groaned and scrubbed my hands over my face, dropping them to shoot him a 'don't go there' look.

"My point is that you have got that whole necessary tough guy shell you need for the job. I never thought I'd see the day when something going down at work would make you lose it, before that shit was even over. And now I've lived to see it," he started snickering again, "and instead of some tragic hostage situation or God-awful homicide, it's some midget of a girl who thinks you're pretty−" his voice choked with laughter as I punched him with all my might in the upper arm, "−and doesn't wear panties!"

I tried to maintain my indignant anger, but it was so rare to see Jasper cut loose in the middle of our working day that I found myself sheepishly smiling along as he tried to control his laughter. That was, until I took in what he said next.

"Wait 'til I tell Alice!" He laughed again, taking in my horrified expression.

"I swear, Jazz, you tell anyone about that and I'll have to kill you, seriously."

As we drove across town to find the apartment of Miss Swan, I absorbed myself in punching the address into the GPS. When we located it, Jasper pulled the squad car up to the curb, parking a couple of buildings away. She lived a good twenty-minute walk away from the university campus, in a mostly residential street lined with aging apartment blocks. Hers was an old brownstone, indistinguishable from numerous others lining the road. We buzzed the super, who took his sweet time to come and let us in. We could hear the jingle of keys nearing with each step of his shuffling limp. The poor man looked ancient and his coveralls of an even earlier vintage. Jasper explained the situation and asked the questions.

Yes, he knew Miss Swan, a ground floor tenant. No, he hadn't seen her in a while. No, this wasn't unusual. Miss Swan was a model resident, always kept to herself, and was very quiet. She never had loud parties; in fact, the super could not remember her ever having guests over at all.

He retrieved a key from a clip on his belt loop and led us to her door, the very last at the end of a long hallway. He then left us to our business, promising to return to lock up when we had done what we needed.

Her apartment was at the very back of the building and was compact to say the least. The front door opened directly into the living room−no fancy vestibule or foyer here. There was a window providing a dingy view directly into the service area and alley behind the apartment block.

The room contained a two seater couch, which sat opposite a squat cabinet on which perched a small TV. Behind the couch, there was a table barely big enough to seat two. The table seemed to do double duty as her desk; it held neat stacks of books and ring binders. A small galley style kitchen took up the far corner. A narrow hallway led to the bathroom and the only bedroom.

The bedroom itself was barely big enough for the double bed; the single nightstand was flush with both the bed and the wall. The window was set high in the wall. Long and narrow, it abutted the drywall of the ceiling.

Each room contained several low bookshelves crammed with paperbacks, even the bathroom.

The apartment might have been small and sparsely furnished, but everything appeared orderly and well-maintained.

We started our search in the living room. I flicked through her books, fanning pages and examining the flyleaves. Many bore the stamp of a book exchange near the campus; she had a lot of classics in there. I checked out the shelves themselves. They were the particleboard with faux wood veneer, the kind stocked at most chain stores, sold flat packed, and easily assembled.

On the top rested a couple of framed pictures. An ornate tarnished silver frame held a wedding photo. A young man with thick, wavy brown hair and Isabella's brown eyes stood stiffly clutching the arm of his new bride. The young woman gazed adoringly at her groom decked out in his summer weight suit, her dark blond hair pinned back with pink and white carnations. She wore a knee length white sundress and held a sheaf of more carnations. Her bouquet barely hid the obvious bulge of her pregnancy. It wasn't a professional or posed portrait; you could see the crowd milling in the background. Perhaps it had been snapped by a relative as they left the church behind them.

Another frame made of highly polished wood held a studio shot of the same man but a little older. He wore a dress uniform with shiny silver buttons; this may have been his graduation photo from the academy. He seemed more comfortable in this shot, his chest puffed out and his mouth even turned up in a tiny smile.

The last picture was of the girl's mother again. She stood leaning against a maroon sedan, the back window filled with piles of bedding and pillows, a desert scene complete with dun colored sand and a towering cactus behind the car. This woman looked much more worn, with fine wrinkles beginning to tell around her eyes.

Although she was smiling, it looked forced−posed just for the obligatory scenery shot.

Jasper was looking through the kitchen as I finished the search of the living area. I then moved to the bathroom while Jasper started on the bedroom.

The bathroom was quite a generous size for such a small apartment. It held a surprisingly large and deep bath, the old enamel kind, with a shower head over one end. The plastic shower curtain teemed with pictures of colorful tropical fish. A small three-tiered wicker shelf held piles of fluffy towels and bath mats. The toilet was tucked in a corner, discreetly hidden behind an opaque privacy screen. There was no window in that room, the only illumination provided by a dome light in the ceiling, controlled by a dimmer switch near the door. An older style pedestal basin held a mug with a single toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste. I opened the cabinet above the sink. It held a hairbrush and a plastic container of hair ties, dental floss, deodorant, Tylenol, some Band-Aids, and a couple of boxes of tampons.

The books on the one shelf in the bathroom were mostly popular paperbacks, and very water-stained and dog-eared copies of the entire Harry Potter series of novels.

I went to the bedroom where Jasper was looking through the built-in robe. Aside from a modest selection of clothes and a couple of battered sports bags, it didn't contain much. The top shelf held several large boxes labeled 'Dad's stuff,' 'Mom's Stuff,' 'Forks house,' and 'School stuff.' Jasper had moved an expanding manila file onto the bed and was checking through it. It seemed to contain mostly household bills and receipts.

I pulled one of the sports bags down and took it into the bathroom to pack some toiletries for Isabella. When I returned to the bedroom, Jasper was peeling back the sheets on the bed to look at the mattress. As he finished his examination, I retrieved the other sports bag and contemplated the girl's meager wardrobe.

_Where's a woman when you need one_? I thought. From long experience, having a mother, sisters, and even the odd girlfriend in the past, girls had very set ideas when it came to what would be deemed appropriate attire. Choosing wrong could cause 'consequences' for a poor unsuspecting and clueless man, namely me in this situation.

Isabella's style, if you could call it that, seemed to be student grunge. Her shelves contained a variety of both long and short-sleeved tees, some hoodies, and several pairs of faded and worn jeans. The hanging section contained a puffy, down-filled winter coat, some sturdy ankle boots, and two pale green shirts.

"Hey, Jasper, I think she must have a part time job at Safeway. Look at the uniforms."

"I'll look for some pay slips; see if we can find which store she was working at." He started flicking through the file again.

I went back to the dangerously loaded task of selecting clothes for Isabella. She had that awkward brace on her arm as well as that colossal cast. Getting dressed by herself would be difficult enough, and jeans definitely would never fit over that leg. I opened a few drawers. One contained pajamas, so I scooped out several pairs and put them in the bag. Another contained some stretchy black pants and tank tops, so I added those too, along with some tees from the shelf. It was always warm in hospitals, so I didn't think including the hoodies was a priority.

Now for the task that made my stomach knot in anxiety.

I steeled myself to open the top drawer, the one universally reserved for underwear. It was full of beige bras and bikini style cotton panties, all in pastel colors. Without trying to pay too much attention to the fact that I had my hands full of a virtual stranger's intimate apparel, I shoved as many as I could into the waiting bag. As I bent to retrieve some socks from the bottom draw, a flashback image from the scene of her discovery filled my head.

"Jasper, come look at this."

Jasper came over and peered into the open drawer. "Yeah, for someone who is currently commando, she sure has a lot of undies. And only boring stuff, too. I would have thought a pretty girl like that would have had something a bit more enticing to sex up the man, if there is one." Jasper went to turn back to his task.

"Not that, smart ass," I replied, rolling my eyes. "Remember what she was wearing when we found her? That wifebeater and those short things. She has nothing like that here at all."

That got his notice. "Interesting" he conceded. "Maybe the perp likes to set the scene, dress his dolly up a certain way to fit his fantasy."

I checked the wardrobe space for suitable shoes, but the only pair I found were some flip flops.

_Where are her everyday shoes that she wore to school?_

There should be sneakers or loafers of some kind. She couldn't wear those winter boots all year round. That made the absence of another item more glaringly obvious too. I rechecked every shelf before again looking in the bathroom. A small hall closet held clean linens and an old army surplus blanket stiff with sewn on patches, the sort you could buy at any holiday spot or souvenir stand. I took a brief minute to examine the patches, which came from places all over the country. I went back to the living room, checking every nook and cranny.

Jasper emerged from the bedroom carrying the bags I had packed for the girl.

"You're conducting a very thorough inspection there, Officer. What's your target?" he asked, one eyebrow cocked in question.

"A backpack or school bag. She'd have to use one, but I can't find it. No purse either."

"Yeah, I noticed that. Let's finish up here. You take these out to the car," he said, passing me the bags. "I'll let the super know we're done. Then we'll head over to Safeway to see if she showed up for work last week."

When we were both back in the car and on the road again, Jasper asked about my thoughts after visiting Miss Swan's home.

I allowed my mind to focus, trying to sort through what I had observed, crystallizing the impressions and conclusions I had arrived at.

"She lives alone, and it doesn't look like there is a current boyfriend. No photos of any or love gifts like stuffed bears or mementos. No photos of herself or any friends, either. The super said she never had visitors, so I think she either has very few friends or compartmentalizes her home life, and work and school. Keeps them all very separate, maybe?"

I absently scratched my scalp, an unconscious habit my mom always chastised me about.

"I'm more inclined to think she doesn't have many friends, maybe none at all. She doesn't have any 'dressy' clothes. Nothing like you see girls wear when they go out, just a few work things and casual stuff for school. So, she doesn't go out much. I know she doesn't have a cell phone. Her family is all gone, and if she doesn't have friends, there is probably no one she needs to keep in regular or close contact with."

I thought back to other things I had noticed.

"She eats at home a lot, too, and can cook. There were lunch items in the fridge, and supper leftovers. She had lots of fresh ingredients there, too. Only one take-out menu stuck on the fridge door."

"Yeah, the stuff in the fridge looks like it's been in there for a while, though. She's been at the hospital for four days and had been gone for at least a few days before that."

I nodded at Jasper's observation.

"She doesn't spend a lot of money on herself or her clothes, so is frugal. Most of her books are second hand, and the furniture looks pre-loved or mass-produced. The TV is old and relatively small, not a fancy LED or plasma. You looked at the bed, new or old?" I questioned.

"New," he replied. "No signs of blood on it or in her apartment. No signs of forced entry or disturbance. I don't think she was taken from there," he added.

I thought more on how her home had made me feel. It was small, clean and nice enough. It was just right for one person managing on a limited income. However, it gave off an atmosphere of remoteness, as if almost anyone could be living there. It did not give away much of the essential essence of the elusive Miss Swan, as if that were hidden or suppressed, in the very place she should be most comfortable and just be…herself.

This, more than anything, made me think that this young woman was desperately lonely, totally alone and isolated. She was like a little island adrift in the middle of a city teeming with humanity. It was almost like she did not want to leave much of herself open to observation, as if she were hiding. But−from what?

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**I'd really love to hear from you, even if it's just a word or two to say love it, hate it, undecided or ambivalent. **


	11. Chapter 10

**Thanks again to my busy beta's Ragsstone and ShowtunesJesus. Beta-ing is an otherwise thankless task, done for love not money. I appreciate your input.**

**Thanks to those of you who review. I get a thrill every time I read your thoughts and questions, and love to see some now familiar names.**

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**Chapter 10**

_**Edward**_

Jasper and I made our way through the busy mall, the bustling crowd parting before us like the proverbial Red Sea. Adults tried hard not to look us in the eye or be caught staring, and the previously plentiful teenagers seemed to melt away, trying to evade our notice. Even after a couple years on the job it still seemed surreal, the effect the uniform had on those around us. Whilst many cops lamented the lack of respect shown by many to those classified as authority figures, I found old habits and prejudices died hard.

The Safeway store where Isabella worked was across town from her apartment. She would have had to take the bus to get there. We went to the small kiosk set centrally in the long row of registers and asked for the manager. A prissy-looking bottle blond wearing Tammy Faye Baker makeup strutted over, giving us a tight smile as she checked us both out a bit too obviously. After spying Jasper's wedding ring, she decided that I was more her type and focused her attention on me.

"I'm Lauren Mallory, acting manager. What can I do you for?" she asked, trying to make her voice sound sexy and sultry and failing dismally. She put her hands on her hips, straining her already too tight and barely buttoned shirt in a poorly disguised attempt to get us to notice her considerable cleavage. I cringed inwardly; nothing was more off-putting than a woman trying too hard to impress.

"We are here about an employee, Isabella Swan? We'd like to know when she was scheduled to work last," I stated in a flat but commanding tone, all business.

"The name's not familiar, but then we _do_ have over one hundred employees at this store alone. She skip bail or something?" she asked, fluffing up her teased hair.

"Sorry ma'am, confidential police business. We need to know the details of Miss Swan's employment record as part of a crime we are investigating."

"Okay. You'll have to come to the back so I can pull her history." She spun abruptly, throwing a suggestive look over her shoulder as she walked towards the rear of the store with an exaggerated wiggle. I sighed in quiet resignation and fell into line behind Jasper. She led us to a pokey cubicle just off the cool room. Once inside, she bent over to tap with her ridiculously long acrylic nails on an ancient computer, sticking her butt out so it was the first thing we saw when we entered the cramped space behind her.

"Hmmm, started here two years ago, works two shifts a week. She does four hours each Thursday and Friday night. Clean service record, perfect attendance and picks up the occasional additional shift to cover sick leave. I can't say that helps me remember her any better, though." She tapped a few more times, pulling up a spreadsheet.

"Seems this Isabella Swan failed to arrive for both her shifts last week without phoning prior, as well as her shift that was due to start at four p.m. today."

I thought back. We had found Isabella in the early hours of last Saturday morning. She had missed two days of work, an estimate that matched the forensic and medical estimates. Our timeline was now firming up.

The 'acting' manager righted herself, smoothing down her tight skirt.

"This information is very helpful to our investigation, thank you for your time Miss Mallory." I turned to leave, hoping to make beat a hasty retreat.

"Will you be seeing this girl?" she asked.

I hesitated briefly before nodding.

"Tell her she's fired."

"What?" I barked out, my incredulity plain. "Miss Swan has been the victim of a horrendous crime and is in the hospital as we speak."

"It's nothing personal," the woman said with a shrug. "She's now unreliable. We can't afford that in this business."

"But you said she had a perfect record. Can't you cut her some slack, considering she's currently incapacitated?" I could feel my temper ramp up a notch.

"Sorry, but I have a waiting list of new, younger and therefore _cheaper _workers waiting for her job. Three shifts missed, three strikes and you're out!"

Jasper cleared his throat, catching my attention. With a minuscule nod of his head, he indicated it was time to go. I buried my frustration, and we returned to our car, glaring at anyone who dared look at us sideways on the way out.

"Anyone would think it was your job that was cut, Edward. What's the deal?"

I let my breath out in a huff, trying to reign in my irritation, wondering why I had reacted this way. It was just another case, another day's work. People lost their jobs every day for more trivial reasons than these. The girl had almost finished college. It wasn't like being a check-out chick was going to be her entire future.

I stared out the window, trying to come up with a rational explanation for my annoyance.

The truth was I cared about all the jobs we did. I couldn't get past the old superhero complex instilled in me ever since I had my light bulb moment as a kid, when I decided that being a policeman was what I was going to do. I wanted to right wrongs and fix things.

The reality of the job was that catching crooks was only one facet of what we did. I had found that Justice wasn't just blind, some days she was a downright bitch. Some crooks you couldn't catch or punish, and some people you just couldn't save no matter how hard you tried. You learned to live with it, not like it. Becoming too cynical and hard was an occupational hazard. There was a fine line between not caring enough and caring too much.

I tried to leave my introspective mood behind for later, giving Jasper a sardonic smile.

"You know me better than that, Jazz. Sullen Cullen, I don't care about anyone."

Jasper stared at me with those eyes that saw everything, returning my smile.

"Yeah, I know you, alright. Shall we go drop this stuff off to Miss Commando on our way back?"

I looked at him with mock seriousness. "We should. I won't be able to sleep at night until her panties are restored to her."

Jasper patted me on the shoulder in a condescending manner. "Well, well, young Edward. It looks like some blood is finally returning to your nether regions. I thought the leech had sucked you dry. So, are you going to be dreaming of Miss Swan with or without her underclothes?"

"Asshole! She is a case, Jazz. She has no one to help her out or get her things for her. It's the least we could do, since we had to go to her house anyway. It's just a professional courtesy."

I could feel myself starting to babble, sounding suspicious to my own ears. Jasper just smiled, knowingly, as we again pulled up at the hospital.

"If you say so. You take her stuff up, Edward. I've got a couple of calls to make," he said, pulling out his cell phone.

A different nurse was on now, and she was nowhere near as helpful as Wendy. She made no move to take Isabella's bags, telling me I could take them straight to her room.

Although it was only seven-thirty, Isabella was asleep, her hair trailing like long silk ribbons across her pillow. Her brow was furrowed again, as she murmured something softly over and over. Finding myself unable to resist, I tiptoed to her bedside, crouching to hear better.

"...want the God...take my hand...stop Snape..."

_Strange_, I thought, but I suppose a bruised brain and a body full of drugs would cause weird dreams. Maybe she was religious? I couldn't recall any signs of any particular affiliation at her apartment, and she didn't have any obvious church-type clothes. As I returned to the squad car, I relaxed into the seat and allowed my mind to drift.

My thoughts turned idly from considerations of church to mahogany silken hair, and how it would feel running through my fingers…


	12. Chapter 11

**My thanks, as always, to Showtunes Jesus and Ragsstone, who beta-ed this chapter over the recent Easter break. That's dedication for you! **

**Thanks to KelseyNicole08, who made me laugh with her story about her recent encounter with the real life Dr. Carlisle Cullen. I hope I should be so lucky one day ;)**

**So many of you were outraged about Bella's wrongful termination, determined to call in the lawyers. Never fear, dear readers! Justice will prevail!**

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**Chapter 11**

_**Bella**_

I was having an up-and-down day. Although my sleep had again been broken by my recurring dream of falling down a rabbit hole and being cursed by an enraged Professor Snape, the end had changed slightly. I still felt the fiery burn that consumed me whole, scorching me until I was a pile of wispy ash. As I floated in oblivion, God came to gather me in his arms to take me to heaven. As I lay cradled in his arms, I looked up in awe at his beautiful face with its strongly defined jaw and eyes the color of the forest, and I felt a sense of comfort and belonging.

He took me to see my mom and dad, and I began to remember things−times I had spent with them together and separately. When I woke, those memories stayed with me, and my head felt a bit clearer. I felt a little more human. Although a lot of the space in my head was still empty, the small but growing snatches of memories and knowledge were encouraging.

I had a different nurse this time, one a bit bossier than Wendy had been. She insisted I have a shower and sit out of bed today. She promised if I could do that successfully, the catheter in my bladder could come out, which was all the motivation I needed. The whole process took a long time, from getting in the wheeled shower chair, taping garbage bags over my cast and splint, tying back my hair, and then the washing. I almost died of mortification as the impatient nurse washed everything my non-existent reach could not.

Thankfully, the Cullen God and Officer Cute had dropped off some things I assumed were mine. They felt familiar and comfortable at least. The nurse helped me wrestle on a bra and a large t-shirt. Although the yoga pants were stretchy, they just would not give enough to go over my cast. Without even asking, the nurse pulled out a pair of silver scissors and cut a long slit up the side of the pants.

When I finally sat in the recliner, I was exhausted. The beginnings of a headache had settled into a throbbing beat over my left temple. Lunch came, and I managed to feed myself some unidentifiable dishwater soup and orange Jell-O. Nurse Bossy had stayed long enough to tuck a towel over my chest before disappearing. It was a bit awkward using my left hand, and the strapping tape they had used to stabilize my dislocated shoulder limited my movement somewhat. I felt a small sense of satisfaction when I managed to get more in my mouth than what I spilled on the towel.

My determined efforts seemed to ramp up my headache a notch to unbearable, and my leg and arm were beginning to join in the pain party, so I pressed the buzzer for the nurse. When she came, I was swiftly deposited into bed, given a shot, and the screening curtain was pulled closed, hiding me from sight. I soon fell into the stupor of drug-induced sleep.

I didn't know how long I slept for, but I woke feeling like I was underwater. It felt like a huge weight pressed down on me, and I struggled to draw breath. As consciousness returned, I realized there really was something pushing down on my chest, and my face was covered by something soft but unyielding. As I tried turning my head to dislodge the obstruction, recognition flooded my head. I felt the starched stiffness of the hospital linen rasp against my scabbed lip and could smell the chemical tang of the bleach they used in washing.

A pillow! Someone was trying to smother me with a pillow!

My instincts kicked into overdrive and I started to struggle against my attacker. Whoever was holding the pillow felt my movements, redoubling their efforts and forcing more of their body weight over me. The splint on my right arm was cumbersome, and I couldn't bend it at the elbow at all. My strapped up left arm moved better, but the further away my arm went from body, the more the tape pulled at my skin, and my reach was nowhere near its normal range. I managed to bring my arms up to a sort of straightened bear hug, until I felt the back of my attacker and started to claw at him, trying to force him away. My right leg was weighed down by the hip-to-toe plaster cast and I couldn't lift it all. I raised my left leg, trying to bend it enough to hitch my foot high enough up on my attacker to force him off. I thrashed and bucked as hard as I could, but I was still weak from my injuries and could feel my frantic efforts flagging. I sensed the fuzziness starting in my head as I became faint from lack of air. With all the movement, my heavy right leg slipped off the bed entirely, causing a new unbearable agony in my over-extended hip. This new jolt of pain helped keep the light-headedness away temporarily.

Positioned as awkwardly as I was, I now couldn't raise my good leg up enough to help kick my assailant. My panicked noises were swallowed by the pillow, with no sound escaping around the padding, and my mouth was dry from sleep and lack of air. I didn't even know if I had a roommate in the other bed anymore to hear and help me.

I realized no one could see or hear my struggle.

Help, I needed help right _now._

Making a split second decision, I allowed my left arm to drop to the sheet, feeling around frantically for the buzzer that Nurse Bossy had tucked next to me in the bed, desperately worried I had knocked it off with my mad thrashing. With a burst of relief I found it and depressed the button without letting it go. I could hear the noise of it echo in the hallway outside, and so could my attacker. The pressure over my face and body was suddenly released. Using my left hand, I plucked weakly at the corner of the pillowcase to dislodge the pillow. As I drew in huge gulps of air, I turned to the doorway in time to see a denim clad leg and sneakered foot disappearing.

"No running in the hallway young man!" someone yelled from outside my door.

Nurse Bossy came striding into the room, muttering something under her breath about hooligans. She took one look at my disheveled state and sweaty skin and stopped in alarm, yanking the half drawn curtain dividing the room all the way open.

"Did something happen? He was in here, wasn't he? I saw him come out. Did he do something to you?"

My chest was still heaving, and I started to shake as the shock finally set in. She dashed over, hitting a big red button on the wall over my bed.

People seemed to come from everywhere after that. Several nurses appeared and helped right me on the bed again. Someone went for a doctor, and someone else called security. People were talking over each other and asking me questions, but I couldn't find a voice to reply. My blood pressure and temperature were taken, and I was hooked back up to some sort of monitor. The doctor came to check me over and suggested the nurse give me a sedative to calm me down, as my pulse was still racing.

This moved me to react, and I shook my head furiously.

"No, no more drugs. I can't fight back if he comes again," I forced out through my chattering teeth. The trembling was making the pain start again, but instead of just my injured parts, all my muscles protested as they clenched convulsively with the shaking I couldn't control.

The room finally started to empty as everyone left, but my tremors did not subside.

I heard raised voices in the hallway outside my room, and my two saviors in blue came rushing in. The cute one hastily looked me over from head to toe. Finding me in one piece, some of the tension left his body as he returned to the doorway for a hushed interrogation of the security guard who followed. The Cullen God came over to my bedside, slowing his pace and raising his hands as you would do when approaching a skittish horse.

"Isabella, it's okay now. We are going to take steps to make you safe. Did he hurt you? " he asked, his voice soft, an instant comfort to my lingering terror.

I shook my head, and I could feel my breathing start to slow. By now, he was flush with the bed, his eyes critically raking over me as if he had to confirm my wholeness for himself.

Without conscious thought, I reached up my right hand, my arm shaking with the effort of heaving up the hefty splint, and grabbed hold of the front of his shirt, dragging him closer to me as my noisy breaths turned to sobs. This seemed to be all the encouragement he needed, and he sat on my bed, dragging me onto his lap, awkward cast and all. I buried my head into his chest as I cried and gasped. The tears flowed until I was empty of everything again, insensible to anything and anyone else around me.

As my tears slowed some time later, I realized my tremors had stopped, and the fear that had consumed me just moments ago was gone. I sat cradled on his lap, one of his big hands stroking my back as the other was wrapped around my waist to anchor me. I could feel the weight and warmth of his chin as it rested on top of my head. The crisp shirt under my cheek was soaked, and I was surrounded by the pleasant and reassuring scent of warm cotton, musky man, and spicy aftershave.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Cullen, I mean Officer Cu−"

He cut me off.

"Edward, call me Edward. Don't apologize. You've been through an extremely traumatic experience, not once, but twice in a week. You're a bit of a danger magnet, aren't you?"

The sound of a throat clearing intruded on my little reverie of calm, and I could feel Edward startle beneath me. He stood, lifting me carefully and effortlessly to my place on the bed, as if I was a feather rather than a dead weight of woman, metal rods and plaster.

"Miss Swan, can you tell us what happened?" It was Officer Cute again, wanting a report.

"Please, I'd rather you call me Bella. I was asleep and when I woke up, someone was holding a pillow to my face. I tried to fight back and push him off. He was kneeling on the bed over me, with all his weight pushing down, and I couldn't move properly, and I got tired, and no one came…" I started to hyperventilate as the panic threatened to overtake me again, my voice becoming higher and faster.

Edward distracted me by asking if I could tell what he was wearing. As I stared intently into his eyes, I could feel my sense of calm return.

"I only saw a leg as he ran off. He was wearing jeans and sneakers. When I got my hands on his back, I could feel a t-shirt and a jacket with a ribbed waist. You know, like a bomber jacket or athletic team letter one. I think I took some skin off" I held up my hands complete with their blunt nails, some broken from whatever happened to me before.

"I'll get an evidence bag from the car. We'll collect some scrapings for analysis," said the cute one, pricking his ears up with the news. "Do you remember anything more about the previous attack?" he asked.

"No," I replied, shaking my head sadly. "I can remember some other things now, like my parents. I know they called me Bella, but I haven't remembered anything else yet."

Edward moved around to the other side of the bed, settling in the plastic seat. He looked to the cute one again.

"We're going to have to move her, Jasper. It's obviously not safe for her here, especially now the perp knows where she is. When you come back, we'll have to sort something out."

Jasper nodded his agreement before going to get a bag for his scrapings.

Edward tuned his attention back to me, giving me a reassuring smile.

"Do you feel like telling me what you remember about your mom and dad?"

So I did. I told him about my newly recovered memories of the last Christmas we spent together before my father was killed. It felt nice to tell someone, and I felt myself smiling as I recalled my dad helping me pull my sled up a small incline behind our house as I played in the snow.

Before I knew it, Jasper returned and very carefully picked out whatever had caught under my nails in my fight with the intruder. His task completed, he looked pointedly at Edward before nodding to the hallway.

"Jasper and I are going to check the security footage and find somewhere safer for you to stay. One of us will always be right outside your door, okay? Just holler if you need someone back in here." His hand was again on mine, lingering there for a moment before he followed his partner.

I felt relieved to have them there, secure in the knowledge that nothing could happen to me while they were there.

Once again I surrendered to the pull of sleep as the pain and fatigue of my day's adventures took their toll, safe under the watchful eye of my saviors-turned guard dogs.


	13. Chapter 12

**So, my lovely readers, here is a gift for you in celebration of 200+ reviews! See, give me your feedback and I'll give you more (and longer) chapters.**

**Thanks again to ShowtunesJesus and Ragsstone. I even got a little smiley face back with my lovely beta's comments. Sad, I know, that such small things give me a thrill.**

**Special thanks and kisses to my most prolific reviewers: sacred datura (gold)- jetstreamRose, shazzio, sujari8, stupidlamb2010, beckybrit & cat5050 (silver)- aabc, Go Ask Alix, frlarrson, KelseyNicole08, humble4, ITeachArtnTX & Mother Wolf (bronze). I luv youse all! **

**SMeyer owns it all and now lives in a fancy mansion on some big estate. I live in a modest house with neighbors who complain about my wind chimes, therefore ruining my Feng Shui.**

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**Chapter 12**

_**Edward**_

It was early Friday morning, and I was in the basement gym trying to work off some of my nervous energy. My sleep the previous night had been full of vivid dreams, but as I fell into a deeper sleep sometime in the early hours of the morning, they had melted away. When I woke, I was left with only vague impressions and half-recalled snapshots of images, and I couldn't shake the impression that these dreams were something I wanted to remember−to hold onto.

I was on my back on a bench, pressing weights, well in the zone. The stereo was blasting out some hyped-up dance music. I hadn't really been paying attention to who it was; it was the beat that I needed, it led me, helped me keep my pace. My fierce concentration was broken by a huge, block-shaped head leaning over me.

"Hey, dude, I could smell the stink of your sweat from the top of the stairs. Got a few things on your mind to work off? Something going down on the job?"

Emmett and I were like chalk and cheese. I was tall at six-foot-two, but Emmett towered over me by another three inches. Where I was lean and built like an athlete, he was solid and beefy, more like a wrestler. While I took great pains to keep in shape and my muscles were nicely defined, Emmett had arms and legs like tree trunks. He had the perfect shape for a football linebacker or a seriously intimidating bouncer.

Appearances were deceiving, however. The bulging, seemingly menacing exterior hid a sensitive and highly perceptive man−qualities which made him an excellent school counselor. With his easygoing and playful nature, he worked well with kids, relating to them easily. Emmett also seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to people in some sort of turmoil. He had an uncanny skill at getting people to purge their deepest secrets and worries without being aware of quite how it happened.

I continued with my reps, pushing the weights up and down as I tried to reach my targeted number. Knowing it was wasted effort to try to hold out on Emmett, I tried to sort out the tangle of thoughts in my head.

"It's this girl," I managed to grunt out between reps.

Emmett whooped out his enthusiasm and squatted down next to me.

"I've been waiting for the day, Eddy boy, that you'd come to your big bro for advice about women. I do have a certain amount of expertise in that area. I mean, c'mon, look at the hottie _I_ landed!"

"It's not like that," I replied, glaring at him. "It's a case. I just can't get her out of my head. I keep thinking about what was done to her and how it will affect her. I keep thinking of her, all alone. She's got no one to care about her, to help her get over it."

"Yeah, I know where you're coming from with that. I get that way too, sometimes. It's a constant risk, considering our respective lines of work. Comes with giving a shit." He rested his chin on his hand, looking thoughtful. "But you must see a lot of crap go down−worse stuff than this. What makes this girl different?"

"I don't know." I rested the weights back in their cradle, sliding down the bench before sitting up. Emmett passed me my towel, and I wiped my face brusquely.

"I just can't let this one go. It's like..." I struggled to put my feelings into some coherent sort of statement.

"It makes me feel angry, that someone could hurt her that way. When we catch the bastard, I want to pound him just for that. I feel sad that she is in pain and has no one to look after her or make her feel better−to protect her. She looks small and fragile, but she put up a good fight and hung on beyond the point where most would have given in. She has an inner toughness you can't see now, but I know that it's there." I looked down and stared intently at the towel I had unconsciously balled up in my lap.

"I wonder what she's doing when I'm not there to see," I admitted in a strained voice.

"Whoa, Edward! I think this girl has gotten under your skin. Is that a good thing or a bad thing for you?" Typical Em, cutting right to the crux of every matter.

I sighed in frustration. "I've got no fucking clue, Emmett."

Emmett spotted me through a few more exercises before he had to get ready for work. When I finished up, I did a few things to fill my morning until it was time to head to work again.

That day we had some training exercise, which took up the first hour of our shift. We had barely finished our detail briefing after the in-service session before Jasper's cell rang. I could tell by the change in his posture that something was up. He spoke briefly and curtly before finishing the call as he strode out of the meeting room, giving me a meaningful look as he inclined his head to the door. Understanding his silent communication, I followed in his wake as we headed towards the motor pool.

"It was the hospital. Something has happened with Isabella Swan." He drove again today, as I radioed our destination to the dispatcher. My mind whirled with possibilities. From Jasper's body language, it wouldn't be something good, like the miraculous recovery of her faculties. I had to physically restrain myself in my seat, mentally willing him to drive faster.

When we arrived, we headed straight up to her room, almost running in our haste. The hallway was full of milling security staff, some speaking into two-way radios, and a few administration-type people, probably there for damage control.

"Officers Whitlock and Cullen. We're heading the investigation of Miss Swan's case. What's going on?" Jasper turned the full force of his steely stare onto the nearest security guard.

"Someone came into her room and attacked her. The nurse called you as soon as she knew what happened."

Before he could say anything more, Jasper bolted ahead, with me barely a step behind.

Jasper gave her a quick but thorough visual once over before turning back to the security guard who had followed us in. I could feel my stomach clench as I took in the sight of her.

She lay rigid on the bed, shaking like a leaf, her whole body twitching and almost convulsing with the force of it. Her eyes were wide and fixed, terror clear in their endless depths. Her forehead was sweaty, as if she had run a marathon, and her hair was a tangled bird's nest around her pinched face. She was still panting, her chest heaving under the twisted t-shirt she was wearing. She looked as if she would bolt if she could move off the bed on her own, or scream if she had the air, or possibly both.

I slowed my pace and tried to talk to her in my most soothing voice. I could hear the pace of her breathing slow a little as I got closer. When the bottom of my thighs touched the mattress, she grabbed me and started crying.

So I did what felt right, what felt natural. I hugged her. I did it without even thinking how it might look or who might see. She was scared and in pain; I knew it with every fiber of my being. She just needed…someone, somebody to comfort her. So I did, and it felt like the space on my chest was just made for her to fit into. She sat there and cried out all her fear and tension, until she was reduced to a snuffling boneless mass as she finally relaxed.

My mind was racing with various scenarios and explanations. It _had_ to be the same perp. It was too much of a coincidence that we had identified her and then less than twenty-four hours later, someone attacked her again, and in a hospital no less. That this girl had been the victim of two separate and random attempts on her life was beyond belief, and I did not believe in coincidences like that. The perp must be bold or stupid, or maybe just desperate.

Security had been informed of the nature of her admission when she first arrived and were supposed to be keeping tabs on her. There was no way she could remain here now the perp knew where she was, and it would require too much man power to safeguard her better at the hospital.

Since we still didn't know the exact nature of the initial crime, it would be almost impossible to get approval for one-on-one protection from our department. She had no family to take her in either. With her combined injuries, it was unlikely that she could manage on her own, even if we found some sort of safe house for her. We had to think of somewhere where she could get the care she needed that was both secure and unknown.

I started to prioritize what needed to be done. We needed to know exactly what had happened and if Isabella had seen or recognized her attacker. We had to find out how he found her, and check if there were any CCTV images of the perp. We then had to find somewhere to place Isabella, preferably tonight.

I was brought back to reality by the sound of Jasper pointedly clearing his throat; I might have even jumped a little. He gave me a look under drawn brows, one communicating that I was in deep shit and owed him a huge explanation. I quickly stood and gently placed her back onto the bed. She then relayed the details of the attack, at one point starting to slide into a panic again. I quickly locked eyes with her, willing her to calm down. She seemed to recover some equilibrium then and pulled herself together, and even said she thought she might have gotten some skin from the attacker.

I felt almost proud on her behalf that she could think of an important piece of information like that despite the terror of her ordeal.

I discussed some of my thoughts from earlier with Jasper about the need to relocate Isabella−or rather _Bella,_ as she had informed us. Jasper returned to our squad car to get an evidence pouch and a collection kit while I tried to divert her thoughts from what had happened. As she told me about her parents, she seemed to transform back to the carefree child she had been at that time. Her eyes shone and when she smiled, and she was glorious to watch, luminous and so beautiful. I could feel that swelling in my chest again. My hands itched to sweep her into my lap, just like before.

I was saved from myself by the return of Jasper. Once he collected the scrapings, he indicated it was time for us to continue with our work. I brushed her hand again, unable to stop myself, reassuring her that one of us would be standing guard outside at all times. The chumps from hospital security had their chance and failed dismally, now it was time for the true professionals to take over.

As soon as we cleared the doorway, Jasper turned to me, hissing "What the hell, Edward? We are on the clock here. Since when has it ever been considered appropriate behavior to cuddle up with a victim like that? This could cause some serious shit for you, for _both_ of us, if she decides to complain and say you made a move on her. Joking about things is one thing…what I just saw is a whole other issue."

"I'm sorry man; I don't know what happens to me when it comes to her. I forget everything else. I'll try harder to keep it together better." I felt my body stiffen in discomfort, struggling against my own sense of guilt and having also disappointed Jasper. After giving me another probing and analytical look, Jasper moved a foot away to talk to the hospital supervisor.

I felt conflicted. Nothing like this had ever happened on a job before. Hell, nothing even remotely similar to this had happened to me, period. I wanted to do the right thing as a professional and as a partner. But I also felt myself becoming more and more conscious of wanting to do the right thing for the girl−for Bella. Not just as the victim of a crime, needing justice and punishment for those responsible. No, I wanted to do the right thing as someone….something other. I was so confused, and I detested the feeling. It was like I had no control over my own actions and feelings when it came to her.

I had to put a stop to this now, before it went any further. Less than professional relationships with anyone involved in a case were strictly forbidden and could jeopardize a potential conviction.

I steeled myself, pushing down all of these unnerving emotions.

I would do what I always did–do my best to do the uniform proud. I could and would be the consummate professional. I would perform my duties without allowing my personal feelings to intrude. I kept repeating this mantra in my head to reinforce it. I slapped my game face on, took a deep breath to fortify myself, and went to join Jasper.


	14. Chapter 13

**Many thanks again to my beta's Raggstone and ShowtunesJesus. Raggstone, your comments this week made me melt. I feel proud every time I earn a smiley. Thanks ShowtunesJesus, who pulled pulled out all stops to beta _two _chapters in a week so you wouldn't miss out on weekly updates while she takes a well-deserved hoilday.**

**Thanks also to Bower_of_Bliss, the awesome author, beta and all-rounder, who is still looking out for me. I'm touched.**

**Happy Mother's day to all you ladies out there!**

**So, as always, SMeyer owns it all. I, however, don't care this week, because my kids got me tickets to 'Water for Elephants' for Mothers Day. They know me so well ;)**

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**Chapter 13**

_**Edward**_

There were about ten of us crammed into a small office, all absorbed with the grainy images playing out on the small monitor.

We watched what looked like a young male of average height and slight build, as he walked from the elevators directly to Bella's room. He slowed briefly, as if searching for the right room number, before going in. He was indeed wearing jeans and sneakers, just as Bella had described. A huge floral arrangement hid most of his upper body. We could see the long sleeves of his dark red jacket, his short hair almost totally hidden under a matching baseball cap. The hat bore the logo of "Beautiful Blooms," a nearby florist.

This perp had known exactly what he was doing, using his prop to disguise his features. He was in there for less than five minutes before he came bolting out, head looking down to avoid showing his features. We rewound it and watched it again. We enlarged the footage, but the hospital's recording equipment was not high quality spyware. The images only got fuzzier the more we tried to enlarge them.

It turned out that someone wearing a similar hat had twice tried to deliver flowers for an Isabella Swan over the last five days. As she had still been unidentified at the time, the receptionist had been unable to find a patient of that name on the admissions register, and so the delivery person had been turned away.

This time, he had gotten lucky, and the reception staff had given him her room number. There was an alert on the register to screen all visitors requesting to see Miss Swan and notify security, but the delivery of gifts or flowers had not been factored in as a security threat. As the perp had spoken with a different staff member each time and was in uniform, no one had really paid attention to his appearance. The hospital security footage was usually erased after twenty-four hours to save costs if no security breaches had been reported, and the current images from the reception area did not show anything more than what we had seen on Bella's floor.

I threw myself into the task of following up on what scanty information we had, grateful for the distraction from my restless mood.

I phoned Beautiful Blooms and found they had recently been plagued by a series of thefts from their delivery van whilst it was out doing drop-offs. Over the last week, two boxed arrangements of mixed flowers and one vase of lilies and roses had been stolen, along with a company jacket and hat. These thefts had been reported, but the proprietor had not really expected anyone to follow up on it so soon.

Despite the premeditated swiping of the necessary props, something about this second attack felt off to me. Unsure of what aspects led me to this conclusion, I repeatedly analyzed every detail of the new assault.

After the seemingly meticulous planning, as well as the calculated removal of weapons and potential evidence at the primary scene back in the warehouse, this crime felt almost amateurish in comparison. There were too many opportunities for discovery, and the possibility of being disturbed during the execution was high. This seemed to contrast jarringly with the sense of seclusion the perp had previously relied upon. I knew desperation may have driven the perp to act prematurely, but I was surprised that he felt compelled to act in such a public area as a busy hospital ward.

As to where to place Bella, it was Jasper who came up with the perfect solution. He made the necessary calls and cleared it with her treating medical team and insurance company. My sense of confusion and emotional turmoil increased tenfold when faced with the thought of leaving Bella somewhere so removed from our sphere of influence, limited as it may be.

I had naively thought that she would be relatively safe at the hospital, and I had been lulled into a false sense of security by the fact that she was in a place where we could visit as often as our investigation dictated. With the change in her location, that would no longer be possible. I had an insane urge to pick her up in my arms and flee with her somewhere remote, where I could personally keep her safe and help her recover. I knew it was misguided; I hardly knew this girl, yet something about her made me react in startlingly unexpected ways. I almost groaned with frustration as Jasper's warning replayed itself in my head.

We were here to do a job. I had to try to suppress the knotted tangle of my thoughts and wavering loyalties and do what needed to be done.

We had Bella packed and stowed in our squad car less than an hour later, heading on our way out of the city. She was propped sideways along the backseat. As she couldn't bend her leg, it was the only way we could fit both her and her cast in. This time, I had been delegated driver so Jasper could explain. He had not wanted anyone to know where she was being transferred to in an attempt to prevent further attacks on her life, so we hadn't discussed with her where she was being taken before we left.

"You're going to stay at the Glenvale Clinic−it's about an hour out of town. It's a private center that specializes in rehabilitation." Jasper had twisted in his seat so he could look at Bella as he spoke, while I watched her when I could from the rearview mirror. I tried to school my facial expression, keeping it studiously neutral in an attempt to mask how conflicted I was.

"But I'm not an addict," Bella stuttered out, her eyes wide with alarm.

"Not that kind of rehab, although they do have a separate building for that. Glenvale mainly deals with trauma cases, like people injured in car or work accidents. Once people are stable enough to leave the hospital, they come here for round-the-clock specialist care and therapy. Some stay for over a year. I know some of the staff, so we were able to pull a few strings and get you a bed in a hurry."

"Thank you, Officer. I appreciate your help. I would never have been able to sleep at the hospital again after what happened. Are you sure he won't be able to find me now?" The apprehension was plain in her voice.

"Oh, no need to worry about that. Only the locals know where this clinic is; it's not listed on any publicly available maps. As I said, it does have a rehab clinic for addicts, so they get the odd publicity-shy celebrity here. Privacy is a priority and guaranteed, and security is well-maintained. All the things we need for you." He smiled his most beguiling smile, one which Bella returned half-heartedly.

She spent the rest of the trip staring out the window, a pensive look on her face. We passed through the outer suburbs and business districts, then the blue chip residential area, until eventually we reached our destination.

The clinic was enclosed in a high, ivy-covered brick wall that spanned the entire perimeter, shrouding it from outside view. Two huge wrought iron and mesh gates barricaded the entry. I noted the overhead security camera as I pulled up to the intercom set into the huge pillar the gate was attached to, and gave them our credentials. The gates rolled away, obviously operated remotely.

I drove along the long, winding driveway. This place was huge, with well-established gardens and an avenue of stately trees. The parklands were dotted with several modern bungalows, connected by covered walkways to a larger group of buildings ahead. The narrow road forked there, a sign pointing one way to the Glenvale Clinic, and the other to the Robinvale Clinic. I took the fork heading towards the Glenvale entry.

The clinic, too, was stately, a vast two story brick building that may have formerly been a hotel of some kind. I parked the squad car under the huge covered portico, and a staffer approached with a waiting wheelchair for Bella. Our little party was escorted inside, and we were taken to a large office to meet the clinic head, Dr. Charles Makenna.

Dr. Makenna was a diminutive Irishman, complete with twinkling blue eyes, shiny black hair, and a neat goatee. He reminded me of the illustration of Willy Wonka in the original Roald Dahl book I had as a child. He seemed to have the same boundless energy. He rushed around his desk to cluck over Bella as he vigorously patted her good leg. In his thick brogue, he assured us that Bella's security and recovery would be given equal attention and enthusiastically explained all the different therapists, care attendants, and facilities the clinic had available to maximize her recuperation and rehabilitation. He signed our paperwork and Bella signed hers, and the official hand over was complete.

Bella looked a bit shell-shocked at this point. I could see the fatigue starting to weigh her down again as her shoulders slumped and her attention wandered. Jasper stood, turning his attention back to Bella, stating he was sure she was in good hands and wished her luck.

I stood also, at a loss for what to say. Good bye and good luck was too final for me to grasp. Our investigation was nowhere near over yet. We would have to come and regularly check on her progress to proceed with it further.

At least, that's what I told myself.

I put my hand out for a handshake, this time using my left so she could use her better hand without the awkwardness of last time. She clutched at my hand, her eyes getting suspiciously shiny again.

I swallowed repeatedly, struggling to find the necessary polite but reassuring words that would allow me to let her go without causing a scene.

"Well, I'm sure we'll be seeing you again soon, Bella−I mean, Miss Swan. You know, to…umm…come check if you remember more. So we can catch whoever did this to you. Call if you need…er… to tell us anything. Here's my card." I gave her the standard issue business card to which I had added Jaspers details as well. I tried to avoid her eyes, feeling like a complete idiot, stumbling through my stunted goodbye. I let go of her hand, turning to shake hands with the doctor before we left.

As we drove away, my stomach knotted in anxiety for her, once again alone and now so much further away. I felt pulled in too many directions for comfort. I kept my eyes fixed on the road ahead, turning the radio on to avoid conversation with Jasper.

Always perceptive, I knew that he sensed my inner chaos. However, I was not in the mood for chit chat or Jasper's informal counseling right now.

Rationally, I knew leaving her here was the right thing to do. She would be safe and would get the care she needed.

Emotionally, I was still torn; ambivalent and confused. I felt like we were abandoning her.

I had no idea how I had gotten to this point of involvement, or what to do about it now.


	15. Chapter 14

**Thanks to ShowtunesJesus and Ragsstone, who are my lovely beta's.**

**Thanks for those of you who persisted through another upgrade here at ffnet, which made reviewing and replying very troublesome. I have responded to everyone who has enabled pm's. **

**Smeyer owns the original Twi-concepts in it's entirety. I own a special edition tin of Eclipse Mints with Edward and Bella on the front.** **Somehow, it's not the same.**

* * *

**Chapter 14**

_**Edward**_

On Saturday, Jasper and I met with Eleazar Delgado, the contact Jasper had lined up to help us with any potential occult ties. Eleazar had been with the FBI for a number of years and was now semi-retired but continued to consult from time to time. He had been gracious enough to meet with us at the precinct. Being a Saturday, we had no competition for booking the more impressive and comfortable boardroom, rather than the usual dingy interrogation rooms we were often consigned to.

In his late fifties, Eleazar was tall and thin to the point of gauntness, with deep creases on his forehead and running from where his cheek and nose met, extending almost to his jaw. His curly black hair was still thick. He wore it precisely parted at the side and combed into submission. His brown eyes were so dark, they almost looked black. He had a piercing stare and rarely blinked; I almost felt pinned under the weight of his probing and hypnotic gaze. As he sat in the chair, he rearranged his cuffs and pant legs so they we just so, before retrieving a notepad and pen from his briefcase and arranging them in meticulous alignment with the edge of the table.

We ran through the crime scene and all of the medical and forensic reports. Additionally, we now had the professional opinion added by Eric Yorkie about the estimated amount of blood at the scene. This report confirmed the discrepancy between the evidence discovered there and Bella's physical condition.

Unfortunately, we would have to wait some time for the results of the analysis on the DNA Bella managed to collect. Crimes involving homicides took precedence, and since Bella was still alive and safe, this pushed our sample further back in the queue. Unlike in popular TV crime shows, in real life the processing of forensic samples took weeks, if not months. We had been given a loose estimate of eight to ten weeks, with no promise that our sample wouldn't get bumped if something with priority came in in the meantime. Fingerprints on the flower arrangement in Bella's room had not yielded a match, so our perp didn't appear to have a previous criminal record.

Eleazar carefully examined the scene photographs and our notes, flipping back and forth between pages as his brow wrinkled with concentration.

After spending fifteen minutes of silent scrutinizing, he finally leaned away from the table, tenting his fingers under his chin.

"Crimes with a vampiric element have increased exponentially in recent years. It seems contemporary pop culture has fed this rise. There are whole book, movie, and television franchises purely devoted to the genre. While there has always been a certain element of society drawn to this subculture, the romanticism now associated with it has dragged it from underground to mainstream. It is also being marketed towards an increasingly younger audience. When the popular 'Dusk' series was made into a movie version, the male lead had teenage girls screaming at him to bite them or turn them at the premiere screening. Acts of vampirism are no longer viewed as horrifying but desirable−erotic even." He spoke as if this was a lecture he had given before.

"Crimes associated with so-called vampiric or blood-ingesting elements usually fall into one of three categories."

Eleazar reached for his yellow legal pad and with his pen roughly divided the top sheet into three sections.

"The first category is satanic ritual. Blood is drawn from a sacrifice, commonly animal but occasionally human in more hardcore fanatics. This doesn't always lead to the death of the victim. This is dependent on the amount of blood considered necessary for the ritual, and also the skill of the practitioner and their bloodletting techniques." In his precise writing, he listed this in dot points.

"I don't think your scene suggests anything that would indicate an occult or satanic ritual. There are no symbolic tools, like a cup or a blade. Granted, the perp could have removed these items from the scene, as he did the weapon he used to assault the victim. There is no evidence of candle wax residue or a pentagram, or other protective designs drawn or swept on the floor. There is no evidence to suggest that a trio or the requisite number of coven members usually considered compulsory for such events were in attendance. It appears a single perpetrator only was present at the scene. No dates significant to the Wiccan calendar occurred around your timeframe, nor was there a full moon. Amateurs and dabblers often plot their activities around these elements. Additionally, torture does not usually precede sacrifice, if that is what the perp had originally planned for her.

"The second category is blood fetish or hematomania, where the individual derives sexual pleasure from acts such as bloodletting, play, or imbibing. In some, it may fulfill other psychological needs, such as the narcissist obsessed with youth, who may believe the ingestion of blood will extend this−enhance vitality. While this form of Paraphilia is more common in males, there are now increasing numbers of women presenting with these compulsions." He filled up the second column with his fastidious cursive.

"And finally, there is the psychological condition known as Renfield's syndrome. This is where sufferers believe that the blood of another gives them certain supernatural or life-enhancing powers, creating the delusional belief that they are vampires. Blood is often also strongly associated with sexual fantasy. Whilst not categorized in the DSM-IV by the Association of Psychiatrists, it is considered a valid mental disorder, although extremely rare. Most classify Renfield's as a form of Schizophrenia. Sufferers are almost exclusively male, and in psychotherapy universally report experiencing a 'sensitizing' event in childhood. This event develops the aberrant link between blood, power and sex." Finishing his notations on the pad, he replaced the pen in his exact manner, returning to his stiff pose.

"So, which one is your perp? Well, he wouldn't have to abduct a victim to satisfy a blood fetish. He would have little difficulty finding willing partners. Search the web and you will encounter a plethora of vampire groups, societies, and clubs. You will find open invitations to 'bite parties,' where willing participants calling themselves 'donors' volunteer to be bitten." Eleazar pulled out of his briefcase a stack of webpage printouts advertising such events. I was astounded by how many there were. There was also a long list of vampire associations and gazetted organizations.

"There are also BD and SM groups who cater for this predilection." He added another sheaf of printouts.

"I suspect your perp falls in the last category. This is also the most dangerous type of perp as he is most likely sociopathic, and therefore difficult to apprehend. This one is clearly organized, as displayed by the level of planning and vigilance with the location selection and potential evidence, although he slipped somewhat when leaving traces of saliva on her leg. He mustn't have a prior criminal record if he was not concerned about leaving his DNA behind. He may have believed she was dead and planned to return to expunge signs of what had occurred there at a more convenient time. The level of rage evidenced in his physical attack on the victim may signify poor or slipping control. This may have also contributed to the lapse with the saliva."

He rifled through the papers, drawing out the reports related to the hospital attack.

"Your report of the second assault documents the attacker searching for your victim by name, indicating he has some knowledge of her. He may have selected her purposefully to fit with his particular fantasy. He may have observed her, monitored her activities over a period of time to verify that she was an ideal candidate for his objective. This puts her at significant risk of further attacks. The completion of his fantasy was thwarted, and he may feel compelled to continue his pursuit to gain whatever power he believes the girl's blood will confer."

Eleazar flipped over the top sheet of the legal pad, beginning a new list of dot points.

"He may have a documented history of self-mutilation in his teenage years, such as cutting. His first source of blood for imbibing would have been his own. He will have committed crimes involving blood in the past. Typically these assailants begin with the theft of neighborhood pets before moving onto human victims. He may have committed prior sexual assaults also. Think of where he may have encountered this victim. Your reports are limited to what you have observed so far, since the victim's amnesia precludes detailed interview. You wrote that her apartment and history indicated a dearth of social supports and contacts? Look to her school or employment, comb missing persons again for any potential similarities with your vic. She won't be his first." Finishing his list of potential pointers, he pushed the pad towards us.

Jasper picked it up, scanning its contents.

"So you suggest we look for young single girls−" Jasper glanced again at the list "−who are most likely virgins?"

Eleazer nodded.

"There is a strong association with youth and purity in these individuals. Virginity is the perfect manifestation of these qualities. It is therefore highly prized, due to the perception that this imbues the most power for the recipient with the transfer of blood. Although unusual at twenty-one, it is not unheard of. Your Miss Swan may well still be a virgin, making her the ultimate target."

Jasper and I exchanged a look. I had lost any sense of self-possession when confronted with her lack of panties, something anyone could see at any nightclub for free. However, asking _this _girl such a loaded question was likely to cause me to lose my composure in further humiliating ways.

Eleazar tapped the pile of print outs.

"This is merely background information. Your perp won't belong to such groups as these, as he likely sees himself as an authentic vampire, not a mere pretender. He may have made the acquaintance of other Renfield's sufferers, but I highly doubt it would be through tawdry channels such as professed vampire clubs."

"How do you think he might react if he somehow managed to get to the vic again and discovered that she wasn't a virgin?" Jasper asked.

"If this was his primary criteria in selecting her, it would likely incite his rage. He would still take her blood, of that I have no doubt. There would probably be less of the ritual, the fantasy fulfillment for him in its taking. His satisfaction would be less, and therefore his anger increased; he would have little, if any control. I doubt she would survive a second time…"


	16. Chapter 15

**Thanks, as always, for the eagle eyes of Ragsstone and ShowtunesJesus, who beta my baby.**

**Thanks to you, too, my lovely readers, for your support, pimping and wonderful reviews. I appreciate your vote of confidence, both here and in The Sunflower Awards :)**

**I keep forgetting the pesky disclaimer. SMeyer owns the original Twilight saga. However, for all of her fans, Edward, Bella and her other much loved characters have taken on a life of their own.**

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**Chapter 15**

_**Edward**_

Sunday was a trying day. It was the end of our working week, so I was ready to be done with it all for a while and have a break.

To top it off, Jasper and I were missing Sunday supper. With our rotating shifts, this did happen from time to time, but that day I was feeling a bit pissy about it.

I had not been sleeping well, as my dreams were full of the girl−_her_. Disjointed images of a grey foot in a dingy basement, brown silk across a white pillow, the closed look that descended her features as we drove away from the clinic; they all featured at one time or another, along with many tantalizing others.

After we had our session with the peculiar Eleazar Delgado, the simmering anxiety I felt on her behalf seemed ever present. Our investigation had stalled, the lack of information from Bella herself a major obstacle. Although we had narrowed the timeframe when she had been abducted−if indeed that was what had happened−it was not enough to pinpoint the exact time and possible location. We needed more information if we were going to be able to pursue the case any further. We had no leads and no witnesses other than those from the warehouse scene. We had nothing concrete at all, except Bella herself. The DNA Jasper had recovered would only help us if there was a match in the system. Alas, the little genetic blueprint revealed in such amazing detail did not come with a name, date of birth and current address neatly printed among on the strands of chromosomes.

No one had even noticed Bella was missing−not her neighbors, her school, or her employer.

To top my frustration off, we had been given the worst assignments for the day−the tedious, the messy, and the boring.

Lots of recruits were attracted to the profession through the glamorized snapshot they saw on TV or in the movies. Bad-ass car chases, solving murders in sixty minutes or less, big drug busts and running down suspects−these were some of the things they thought they would be doing every second day at the very least. The reality was far less 'sexy.' Long hours, writing up to eight reports a day, being lied to ninety-eight percent of the time, endless paperwork, endless statement-taking; this was the day-to-day grind that came with the badge.

Today was just an up-sized serve of this.

Our shift had started with cellblock duty, which involved sitting at a desk in the holding area where short term detainees were housed. It was monotonous listening to the inmates first pleading, then whining and crying. Some would bait other cellmates for the sport of it, and they would all end up squabbling like two-year-olds.

They were all so predictable. No matter who they were or what crime brought them here, the endless waiting and boredom affected them all equally. The druggies would be agitated and pacing, then sniffing and shaking, before finally getting the DTs. The drunks would vomit over everything, stinking up the whole area. The cleaning crew only came through once a day, so if there was any mess, we had to attend to it ourselves or learn to tolerate it. Everyone would complain about the food when mealtime arrived and try to steal each other's pudding.

The only thing worse would be doing duty in the women's division. The cat calls, propositions and flashing weren't quite so frequent with men.

After spending half our watch enduring that, we had been called to an apartment by a charity that delivered meals to the disadvantaged. One of their clients had not opened his door for his delivery over the last few days, so we had been asked to attend and perform a welfare check. The super unlocked the door for us, and as Jasper opened it, a wave of fetid odor emerged like a noxious cloud. I felt sure that we would find the occupant had expired some time ago and was now fermenting.

What we did encounter was almost worse. The poor man had a history of mental illness, and it appeared that he had sunk into some sort of catatonic state. He was sitting in an ancient orange plush armchair, his eyes open and staring blankly. He was surrounded by the garbage of several weeks' worth of half eaten meals, the aluminum foil trays from the charity flung haphazardly everywhere. There were empty juice boxes and water bottles everywhere, along with cookie and Saltine packets. When the regular food had run out, he had eaten sugar and uncooked noodles straight from the bag. I could hear mice rustling through the mounds of refuse piled against the walls.

He hadn't washed or changed his clothes for a considerable time, and had eventually stopped moving from his chair to the kitchen or bathroom altogether. I only recognized that fact when I was trying to make out what had happened to his baggy brown socks. They bulged over the top of his carpet slippers as if they had been inflated. When the realization of what his socks contained hit me, I stopped examining his clothing too closely.

Jasper radioed for an ambulance, but the man was alive, breathing, and not in need of urgent emergency transport, so it was left to us to ferry him to the hospital for processing and transfer to an appropriate mental health facility.

Jasper nodded his head in the direction of the hallway before walking back out. I followed, grateful for the opportunity to breathe less offensive air. We left the apartment door partially open in a vain attempt to ventilate the rooms.

"That man is _not _messing up the back of our squad car. We have to find something to wrap him in."

Jasper was very particular about our car, even going as far as hiding the keys when he could get away with it to avoid other teams taking it out.

"I don't think we'll find anything clean enough in there. I don't even want to look," I responded, trying to keep my gorge from rising. Thank God the woman from the charity group had told us he lived alone; I didn't want to have to do a thorough search through this cesspit.

We performed a quick rock-paper-scissors to see who would wait with the man, with Jasper beating me, predictably. I asked him to bring the box of gloves from the car, as well as some garbage bags that were stored in the trunk.

As I stood observing the man, not daring to sit on any of the filthy furniture, Jasper went to find the super again to beg for a drop sheet or tarpaulin to cover our car's back seat. When he returned, I took the garbage bags and using my penknife, I cut holes in the bottom. I slipped one on each arm, snapping the gloves over the top to hold them in place. I then tied knots where the bag rested on my shoulders, to stop my improvised gauntlets from slipping down. Jasper watched in amusement before doing the same. The final bag, I arranged open on the floor as a ready receptacle.

"I think we are going to have to change gloves a lot," I said to Jasper by way of explanation.

We turned to the man in unison, as Jasper did the requisite spiel of what we were going to do, why, and where we were going next, even though the man seemed oblivious to our presence. We hooked our arms beneath his armpits, anchoring our free hands on the back of the chair for leverage.

"On the count of three, one…two…three". We groaned in chorus with the effort. Although not large, the man was a dead weight and did nothing to assist us.

As we hoisted the man up to standing, there was an audible sound as we peeled him away from his sodden chair. We quickly wrapped him in a filthy blanket that had been piled on the floor next to his chair. It would not look right escorting him through the building and then the hospital trussed up in garbage bags. He allowed us to lead him down several flights of stairs and into the waiting car docilely enough. Once in the car, the blanket was hastily added to the garbage bag with our discarded gloves. We could get him a clean one at the hospital.

The trouble came after we arrived there. Because of his disheveled and malodorous state, we were spared the ordeal of the waiting room and given a cubicle far away from other inpatients. After waiting a torturous amount of time, a couple of orderlies descended, bent on divesting our man of his cocoon of muck.

He turned from compliant to a spitting, howling dervish in an instant, before a team of burly security guards, more orderlies, and a few nurses drugged and restrained him into some sort of submission. What had started as a simple handover turned into protective detail−for the staff, not our poor disturbed man. After being thrust from his silent state by the threat of a wash, our charge remained agitated and babbling, muttering something about a black angel swooping down to claim a child bride. His repetitive and seemingly random gibberish eventually descended into quiet whispers, somehow more sinister-sounding in his hushed sibilant voice than at his previous volume.

It took a further four hours of hallway pacing, murky coffee, and ancient magazines for a mental health specialist to arrive and assess our fellow as suitable for admission. Luckily, a bed had just become available and he was transported quickly, so we only had to work two hours of unpaid overtime.

After logging our cases on the computer when we returned to the precinct, it was well after midnight before I finally sank into bed.

I slept soundly and without dreams for once, enjoying my slothful time until forced by my growling stomach to rise for lunch. I threw together a couple of PB and J sandwiches before hitting the gym, but my efforts were half-hearted to say the least.

I was brooding.

I kept replaying every interaction I had had with Bella, every word I had said, and analyzing how my actions could be interpreted by others. I didn't believe that I had acted in any way inappropriately, considering the circumstances. The few times I had touched her, I had merely reacted to her distress, comforting her. Sure, I did not do this for every victim we encountered. Not everyone seemed to need the reassurance such a simple thing could provide.

The protectiveness was something else. I had experienced a milder form of this a few times before, usually in cases involving children and occasionally women. The welfare and social service organizations were pitifully strained. Sometimes we were forced to return children to less than ideal homes, or were not legally able to remove them at all. Some women willingly chose to return to households where domestic violence was a daily occurrence, exposing their children to further trauma. It was hard not to wonder and worry, to just turn off the feelings of helplessness when faced with a no-win situation. Fortunately Jasper had a similar moral code, and we would often check up on our cases off the clock, and we had delivered the odd care package of food, clothing, or blankets when unable to provide any other relief.

When it came to Bella, though, this protectiveness was something more; I felt more personally involved in her defense, for lack of a better term. _We_ had found her, and _we_ had helped her and made her as safe as we could. It sounded very territorial and possessive, but it did not feel in any way controlling, at least to me. I did not want to direct what she did−I just wanted to be a part of it.

The anxiety I felt about her wellbeing partly arose from the sense of protectiveness I felt. It was the other, unnamed reason I struggled with.

What did I really feel for her?

In truth, I hardly knew the girl. I knew a little of her background, and every time we had seen her since was related to a traumatic event for her. She had brain damage, for God's sake! Hopefully, this was only temporary, but still, this girl was not her usual self.

These thoughts and many more tortured me, and as a result I was a grumpy bastard, or so Jasper informed me when he came over to my apartment in the midst of my black mood.

He had come over to ask me to help him make dinner for Alice. It wasn't often they got to have dinner alone together, so he wanted to make something special and needed a kitchen slave. Neither of us were gourmet chefs, but combining our talents generally led to better results.

We were standing at the sink peeling vegetables when Jasper spoke.

"About the other day at the hospital? I meant what I said. Sad as it is, you have to be very careful how you act in front of others when we are on a job. So far, that has never been an area I have found you lacking in." His eyes remained fixed on his task. It seemed to be taking all of his concentration today.

I tried to keep my internal squirming to a minimum.

"What you do in your own time is your own business. Without getting all girly, I remember what it's like to find yourself falling into something you don't quite understand at the time. Just be careful. The girl has been through a lot and still has a ways to go. I know you can't help what you feel."

He looked up then, staring daggers my way, and threw a half peeled potato at me, which I barely caught in time.

"Now you've done it! You've made me talk about feelings. You're turning me all pansy-ass! Emmett would crap himself if he heard this."

I grinned despite myself.

"What I'm trying to say is just go slow, find out more about her. Once she isn't as fragile, the caveman thing you've got going on might wear off."

"Maybe," I conceded. "Better man up 'fore your woman gets home. Want a beer?"

Much later, I was studying a law text on my couch when Jasper knocked and poked his head around my door.

"Hey, Edward? Can you do me a favor tomorrow? Alice's car is getting serviced in the morning, so I need some help dropping it back to her at work. You up for a drive out that way again?" His eyebrow rose speculatively at this last question.

He was offering me an olive branch of sorts.

I felt my mood lift instantly and couldn't agree quickly enough.

Tomorrow, I would get to see _her_ again.


	17. Chapter 16

**Thanks to the hardworking ShowtunesJesus and Ragsstone for their beta-ing expertise. I even earned a smilie or two from Ms Ragsy, so I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as she did.**

**My apolpogies in advance to my friend La Push Starlight, you'll see what for.**

**I know I am sorely tempting the review fates by posting an update so early, but one of my lovely readers has nominated me for Best Novice Author in The Avant Garde Awards, an honor worth celebrating. Thank you, I am really touched by your confidence in me. **

**SMeyer owns Twilight, it's characters, the movie and marketing rights. I bet she doesn't sit at home, pining for reviews.**

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**Chapter 16**

_**Bella**_

I spent the weekend holed up in my room like a brooding recluse. I just didn't feel I had the necessary energy to mix with the other residents and play nice. My little sanctuary was pleasant, the décor of pale green and cream soothing to the eye and my rattled nerves. It had a hospital bed with a head board and foot end of pale blond wood, and a matching nightstand. The comforter was an off-white color, with a pattern of curling vines in sage green. There was a small table in the same wood as the other furniture which could accommodate my wheelchair underneath. The walls displayed two reproductions of famous Monet paintings, the 'Water Lily Pond' and 'Water Lilies and Agapanthus.' I also had a comfortable settee with a matching ottoman that would prove useful for propping up my cast, and I had my own bathroom. French doors opened out to a tiny enclosed patio, partially shaded by a sweeping oak tree. The morning sun soaked the whole space, making the terracotta tiles glow. It had soon become my favorite retreat, and I would sit out there until the shadow of the oak tree shaded my little oasis, forcing me back inside.

Aside from helping with my hygiene requirements, the staff left me to my own devices. I would be assessed on Monday and have my treatment regime decided upon, and then my therapy would officially commence. Aside from complying with the Clinic's requirements that all residents rise by seven-thirty in the morning, and wear normal clothing rather than nightwear, they put no other demands on me during the first few days.

Every morning, an aide would come and help me shower and do my hair. I had to ask her to tie it back, as it often got in my way and I only had one arm that moved well. I would eat my breakfast at the little table in my room before going out to my private patio, where I would sit outside basking in the yellow sunshine like a lizard until my lunch was delivered to my room. After I ate, I would nap; I had never craved sleep so much. I would then sit in my wheelchair or on the settee pretending to watch TV until suppertime. Afterwards, the aide would return to help me change and get back into bed. I didn't do much except think and dream.

I felt drained, wrung out, as if someone had taken all my vitality and stamina along with my memories. I also had an almost constant lingering headache−an unpleasant hangover from the brain contusion. My discharge from the hospital meant no more blissful but disorienting opiates, and I was now restricted to regular Tylenol and Advil.

I kept desperately replaying the failed smothering in my head, trying to remember details, as straining to recall what had happened before I arrived at the hospital proved a fruitless and frustrating waste of time−time I now spent dwelling on my sense of misery and worrying.

I was mired down by self-pity, feeling robbed of the life I had led before quite happily, until it had been ripped from me so brutally. I was now broken; who knew if I would ever regain those memories, or if I would heal enough to do whatever it was I had been doing before.

I also thought endlessly about my attacker. What had I done to deserve being left like that? As if the first attack hadn't been savage enough, he had come back again to finish off the job. Would I ever be free of him? Would I always be looking over my shoulder worrying about him out there, plotting and pursuing me? I couldn't go anywhere, couldn't defend myself in my weakened state; I was pretty much a sitting duck.

These thoughts went round and round in my head in an endless loop, each thought leading to another "what if" or "why?"

The constant brooding did nothing for my headache either.

I felt very alone; the only two people I had seen regularly enough to become comfortable with since I first awoke in the hospital had left me here and driven away without a backward glance.

My only respite was sleep. My body begged for it, and who was I to deny it? Sleep allowed my body a brief lull, easing my various aches and pains and giving it time to rest and recover.

My brain, however, would continue on its merry way. Instead of indulging in my little pity party as it did in my waking hours, my sleeping brain produced dreams full of hazy snippets of my life before, along with the familiar surreal descent down the hole to my nightly encounter with Professor Snape.

When Monday morning arrived, I prepared myself for more of the same. As I sat waiting for the aide to come to help me shower, I cast a dejected eye over my dwindling supply of clean clothes. I still had t-shirts and underwear enough, but I had worn all my yoga pants more than once already. As the door opened, I spoke without looking up.

"I'm going to have to break the rules on my first day in general population and wear pajama pants, Sally. Where can I go to do my laundry?" I looked up−not into the face of Sally, the aide I was expecting−but someone new.

"Oh, sorry, I thought you were someone else," I apologized, taking in the person in front of me. She was petite, but perfectly proportioned and gorgeous. Her silky black hair was cut in a chunky but attractive way that perfectly framed her face, giving her killer cheekbones. Her gray eyes danced merrily, and her perfect pout was enhanced by bold Fuchsia lipstick. She wore a cute short-sleeved shirt in the same color and black and white gingham Capri pants. Her black ballet flats with grosgrain ribbon bows completed the ensemble, making her look funky, but still professional. She radiated an air of liveliness and friendliness; it did not seem to be a role played to placate a wary newbie like me.

"Hi, I'm Alice. I'm a physical therapist here, and I've come to start your evaluation so we can develop your rehab plan. Oh, and don't worry about the clothes, a little birdie told me you didn't bring a lot so I took the liberty of grabbing a few things for you. Sorry if they aren't really 'you' things. I'm not the stylist type personally, so I hope they're okay."

She tossed a couple of items on the back of my wheelchair before helping me into it and wheeling me to the bathroom. She gave me a minute to pee in private before helping me undress and shower, all the while keeping up a steady stream of chatter about the clinic, the program and facilities, assuring me that once I got used to it, I would love it. Alice also scolded me for hiding away for the whole weekend, declaring that I had my "wallowing time" but now I had other, more productive things to do. Turning to a lighter topic, she then went on to tell me all about her recent honeymoon in Australia, how beautiful it was there and all of the amazing things she and her new husband had done. Keeping track of the twists and turns of Alice's babbled conversation required a fair bit of concentration, and I found for the first time that I was too distracted to be embarrassed or intimidated by my nakedness and sense of vulnerability.

Before I knew it, I was dressed in loose, white linen pants and a soft georgette top in navy blue. Alice had also done my hair and instead of the usual boring ponytail, she had parted my hair to the side, braiding it around the front and sides to join at the back to one long braid. While I admired the softness it lent to my face, I didn't like not being able to hide my black eye and cheek. Although my bruising had faded somewhat to the yellow-green tinge stage, I still looked battered and abused, and I sighed in resignation at the thought. There was no hiding the scabby patches that still encircled my wrists either, since I had dispensed with the crepe bandages. What would the people there make of those wounds?

"Don't you like it, Bella? I think you look gorgeous. You'll knock 'em all dead today."

"You did well, Alice, considering your raw material. There aren't any small children here, are there? I don't want to send them screaming when they see me," I mumbled, hanging my head.

"Silly girl, you wait until you see the other residents. War wounds are an endless source of fascination and competition with them."

With that, she wheeled me out of my room and through a maze of hallways until we reached a spacious and tastefully furnished dining room. Most of the tables were occupied with people sporting various crutches, braces and splints, and many were in wheelchairs. Some were being fed by aides. Alice wheeled me to the buffet, clipping a tray over the arms of my chair to hold my breakfast items. I chose a bowl of oatmeal, the fruit compote and added a glass of juice. Alice filled a tray for herself and took it to a table, returning to wheel my chair over. She showed me how to remove the tray so I could move under the table properly.

We were soon joined by a huge man wheeling his own chair. He was tall−taller even than Edward the Cullen God was−and had bulging muscles everywhere it seemed. His skin was a dusky russet color and his thick black hair short and spiky. His face still bore some of the roundness of fading childhood, although he was clearly shaving now; he looked seventeen or eighteen at most.

"Well hello there! I'm Mr. Right. I heard you were looking for me," he purred, waggling his eyebrows.

Alice groaned. "Give the girl a break already, Jake. It's her first day out."

His eyes never left me, as he ogled me openly. "But, Short Stuff, you know we hardly get any girls here, and the ones we do aren't usually as hot as this one."

I was starting to feel a little uncomfortable under his stare and found myself fidgeting with my food.

Alice slapped him lightly on his huge bicep, breaking his gaze. "Show some respect, Jacob Black. And don't call me Short Stuff!"

"So, what are you in for?" Jake asked before shoveling in a mouthful of bacon.

I just looked at him blankly.

He pointed to my splinted arm. "Crash, bash or splash?"

Alice sighed, rolling her eyes. "Most of our residents receive their injuries in one of three ways: Car accidents, street fights or assault, or diving accidents. He is being extraordinarily rude and forward in asking you which category you fit into, and you don't have to answer if you don't want to, Bella." She leaned in closer to me, whispering conspiratorially in my ear. "I must warn you, though, ignoring him just spurs him on. He's like a puppy−be firm and tell him no if you want. Be careful of being too friendly, though, or before you know it, he'll be humping your leg."

I laughed at the dog comparison.

"Oh, Bella, is it? Beautiful name for a beautiful girl." He smirked.

"I suppose I'm bash. I don't really remember what happened, though−bump on the head," I said, pointing to where my stitches were hidden in my elaborate braid.

"You're lucky they didn't put you in the humpty-dumpty wing, then," Jake replied, shivering in distaste.

Alice whacked Jake again, a bit harder. "That's enough Jake, those poor people can't help the way they are." She turned back to me, explaining, "We have a special annex for patients with an Acquired Brain Injury. They need a lot more care, and some will never be able to return to their former lives. It's twice as devastating for their families. Their loved one survives the initial trauma, but the toll is huge and often permanent."

"The only reason I don't report you for assaulting me so often is I know you want me _bad_, Short Stuff. The husband story is only so your boss doesn't get suspicious. Besides, I keep hoping that the next time you hit me, you'll do it dressed in leather!" Jake snickered at Alice, reaching across and trying to hold her hand.

With another groan, Alice pushed away from the table, asking if I had finished. I nodded, so she wheeled me down another hallway to a huge gym-like area. One wall was lined with large vinyl covered tables, similar to the sort used by masseurs, but wider. Parallel bars and wooden stairs stood in the middle of the room, going nowhere. There were several mats on the floor, huge gym balls and vinyl-covered wedges of every size. Another wall held weights and standard gym equipment, like treadmills and steppers. The far wall was entirely made of fog covered glass, which Alice pointed out enclosed the hydrotherapy pool.

What followed was two hours of almost torture, as Alice put me through various activities and exercises. She explained these were designed to help me regain muscle mass and strength, and to improve blood flow to my healing fractures. She also informed me that once my leg cast came off in a few weeks, it would be replaced by yet another brace, and my training would be increased.

Alice might have looked sweet, but she was pushier than any gym coach I had ever met in high school. By the end of my session, I was reduced to a quivering mass of trembling limbs. Taking pity on me, Alice wheeled me through a door to an adjoining room, introducing me to Alistair, the resident masseur. I had a glorious massage, which was so good at helping me unwind, it almost put me to sleep.

The rest of my day was full of meeting the other therapists, assistants and aides who would be involved in my care, and some of the other residents as well. As Alice predicted, the location and extent of my injuries proved to be a source of fascination with the others. It seemed I was fascinating for another reason, too. My fellow residents were almost exclusively male. So far, I had only come across two other women. Alice revealed they had both been in car accidents. It seemed the Y chromosome often led to risk taking, and therefore males were always over-represented in all types of accident and injury categories.

By the end of Alice's workday, I had a neatly typed timetable outlining my activities from eight thirty in the morning to four p.m. every day. I had physiotherapy, occupational therapy, and something called "creative healing." I could also add meditation, trauma counseling, and "life skills" if I so desired.

By suppertime, my head was spinning, and I sorely felt the lack of my afternoon nap. My headache had initially been much better today, but as I got more tired, it seemed to increase in volume also. As I went through my nightly bedtime ritual, all the thoughts and feelings I had kept at bay all day with the constant distractions returned, and I felt lost and lonely again. My pounding head and weariness added to my sense of dislocation and misery, and I fought to hold back the gathering tears. If I gave into my tears now, there would be no warm arms to surround me, and no comforting smell to wrap myself in.

I slid between the sheets, grateful the day was at an end, asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.

My dreams quickly descended into darkness. My nightly battle with Professor Snape played out again, ending only when the fire raging through my body had burned itself out, reducing me to ash. As the dream continued, it began to morph into a replay of the weeks around my mother's death, until I woke sobbing and snotty with the relived grief. I lay on my soaked pillow, willing myself to calm down, trying to remember something, anything to help regain some composure, but coming up empty-handed.

I must have drifted off again, as I soon found myself dreaming of fire again. This time, however, the flames licking my skin with burning intensity were green. Instead of pain, the blazing, flickering tongues of the green inferno left only ecstasy in its wake, of the like I had never experienced before. My body shattered into a million pieces and my soul released as I was remade, whole again. I felt renewed and reborn, overflowing with emotion. I clung to this sensation, clinging to the hope it would follow me into waking.


	18. Chapter 17

**Thanks to my beta's Raggstone and ShowtunesJesus. They put in a lot of effort picking up my typo's and correcting my comma's, and I have learned a lot from them. I love you girls.**

**This story was recced by The Twilight Awards in their Under the Radar feature. Welcome to all the new readers who followed the link. **

**Thank you, too, to all my faithful readers for your reviews last week. I was well and truly cheered up! Thank you to those who voted in The Sunflower Awards and also in The Avant Garde Awards. I have been blown away by your support ****for this story.**

**SMeyer ****dreamed about a wolf, a vamp and a girl in a meadow. I dream about Edwards. All sorts of Edwards. I love fanfiction!**

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**Chapter 17**

_**Bella**_

It was Tuesday, my fourth full day at the clinic. I was up, showered, and dressed by the time Alice arrived for our early morning catch-up and chat. She toyed with strands of my hair for a while before deciding a high ponytail would do for today.

"Bangs," she declared randomly. "You'd look great with long, wispy bangs. I'll have to take you out one day for a proper haircut. I think you need to do a bit of on-line shopping, too. You have nowhere near enough clothes to keep you decent, and you need things that will go over the cast. Those stitches need to come out soon, too. Oh, and I've found a new, lighter brace for your arm. I think you must have lost a bit of weight and muscle mass since all this happened to you. The new one will give you more movement without skimping on support, and you'll be able to use your hand better. You are right-handed, aren't you?" All of this came out of her mouth in barely a blink of an eye, and I found myself once again having to concentrate hard to keep up. I nodded, holding up my splinted right arm to indicate that, yes, I was right-handed.

By the end of our physical therapy session, I had on my new and improved supportive splint, and a promise that if I continued with the exercises she had set, the strapping tape on my left shoulder could come off at the end of the week. Dislocated shoulders are usually treated by the sufferer being confined to a sling to limit movement and prevent the joint from popping out of alignment again. Seeing as how I was already impeded by my broken arm and leg, the doctors had forgone this treatment, deciding on the strapping instead. The tape provided the joint with some stability and had given me a constant reminder not to move in ways that might damage my healing shoulder.

After lunch, I had my first session of occupational therapy. Since the session was merely an introduction to what I would be doing from then on, I was finished well before my next scheduled activity. I sat in one of the communal recreation rooms. I had chosen my favored one that branched just off the dining room. I wished I had the forethought to bring another pair of socks. I didn't have any shoes with me, and I would not have been able to wear one over my cast anyhow. I wore only stockinged feet. Once I had cooled down from my Alice-induced exertions, I found my feet were almost always cold with the lack of movement and walking.

_I really need something a bit warmer_, I thought, and a solution presented itself. _I can knit some._ A clear memory of knitting hats, scarves, socks and blankets popped into my consciousness. Elated with this new knowledge of myself, I waited impatiently for someone to come past my post so I could hail them for assistance. Not being able to push my chair around myself sucked big time; I hated being so reliant on others.

I recognized a familiar face wheeling past the doorway with an internal groan, but I didn't have many other options at this point besides waiting longer. Between organized therapy sessions, very few people came by this area, so I could have been left waiting for some time.

"Jake! Hey, Jake! Can you give me a hand?" I called out as loudly as I could. Reversing his chair with a practiced flick of the wrist, Jake entered the room.

"Hey, Bella," Jake said by way of greeting, his eyes sweeping over me as he smirked. If that boy had any other sort of facial expressions other than leers and smirks, I had yet to see them.

"That's a nice shirt, Bella. Can I talk you out of it?"

I rolled my eyes. "Snow flake's chance in hell of _that _happening, Jake. I need help finding some wool."

"Wool? Like fluffy-stuff-on-the-back-of-a-sheep sort of wool?" He looked confused.

"No, Jake. Balls of colored stuff, you know, the kind you knit sweaters from?"

Not long after, I held a bag brimming with balls of different colors and ply that Jake had fetched from somewhere for me. I also had a bundle of knitting needles. I selected the size I needed and got started casting stitches onto the waiting needle. Jake sat watching me, entranced by the click-clack as I began to knit, before demanding that I demonstrate so he could do it, too. Soon, I was immersed in teaching Jake the intricacies of plain and purl.

"No, Jake. You go _around _with the wool, and _through _with the needle," I encouraged in my calmest voice.

I heard a throat clear in front of me and I looked up. My surprised gaze was instantly captured by one of stormy sea-green. I had forgotten how intense those eyes were, and how the color seemed to change with his mood. They were beautiful and captivating; I could not remember being so enthralled by someone's eye color before. He stood glowering−not at me, but at Jake.

"Hi, Edward," I said in a breathy voice, feeling my heart rate start to increase as my palms grew sweaty. I had also forgotten how handsome he was, with his sharply defined jaw and slightly crooked nose. Or maybe it was just that last time I had had seen him, I was a touch distracted after someone had tried to kill me for the second time. I had been too distressed to appreciate the fine form I had time to appraise fully today.

His distinctive hair was uncovered this time, and he was out of uniform. He wore dark wash denim jeans and a figure-hugging black long-sleeved t-shirt. His hands were jammed into his pockets, straining his shirt over his torso, highlighting the definition of his muscled chest beneath the material. Suddenly, my feet weren't so cold anymore. In fact, I was beginning to feel warm all over.

"Hello, Bella. I thought it would be nice to catch up with how you are." He smiled, and the storminess melted away from his eyes.

_Wow. He has a really nice smile, too−slightly lopsided but very…appealing. Dazzling, even._

"That is, if I'm not interrupting anything?" he said, before muttered something under his breath, which I barely caught, since I was still engrossed in drinking in the sight of him. I wasn't sure, but it sounded like it something to do with beating packs of wolves away from my door.

Jake must have heard well enough though, as he smiled smugly at Edward.

"That's my cue to take off. Ciao, baby." With that, Jake wheeled himself away. I had kind of forgotten he was there at all.

"Is he a close friend of yours?" Edward asked with forced casualness, as he sat on a nearby chair facing me, his knee almost touching mine.

I snorted, instantly embarrassed by the rude noise. "No! God, no. He's very…sweet, but so immature. Every time he sees me, he comes out with another corny pick up line. I've never heard anything like him before, and he just doesn't give up."

"Ruled by his treacherous teenage hormones, I'd say." He shot me a look under his thick, almost auburn brows. "But then, looking at you, I don't blame him for his persistence."

I laughed at that.

"Why, Sir, your flattery is very welcome, but I'm hardly at my best. I look like−well, I look like someone beat me within an inch of my life." My voice trailed off as I stared at my cast.

"Hmm, when we first visited you after you woke up, I remember being struck by how pretty you looked, even with that enormous black eye."

I looked up to see his head cocked to the side as he regarded me.

"It's kind of you to think so. Anyway, you didn't come all this way just to tell me that. You're not in uniform either." It was my turn to examine him. I could see a hint of nervousness in his posture.

"I actually came out with my brother-in-law to drop my sister's car off. I believe you've met my sister. Her name is Alice. She's a therapist here."

"Alice is your sister?" I squeaked, shocked. They looked nothing alike.

"I know what you're thinking. We don't look like brother and sister, right?"

I nodded, my brain taking in this new information.

"We're both adopted. We have another brother, too, also adopted. Wait until you meet him. We are all _very_ different from each other." He smiled again, and I could almost feel his affection for his siblings. His expression shifted a little, and he seemed to almost squirm in his seat.

"Actually, we haven't told you this before but you have met her husband, too. Jasper, my partner? He and Alice are married." He seemed concerned that I would be upset by the news.

"That's how we got you in here so quickly. Usually, there is a sizable waiting list. We secured you a place on the spot with some help from Alice. We wanted to give you time, find your feet so to speak, before telling you. I hope you aren't mad."

"Wow, Edward." I gulped nervously. "I'm not mad, just kind of surprised that you'd both do that for me. Thank you. Will I get to see Jasper too today? I should really thank him as well."

It was Edward's turn to snort now. "Yeah, you might. That's if Alice hasn't dragged him into a room somewhere for a bit of "personal time." They don't get to see each other often during the day because of their jobs. At least, I hope they make it somewhere private. Alice indulges in far too many PDA's for this baby brother's comfort zone."

I laughed again. "Alice is prone to exuberance, I've noticed." It felt nice to laugh. I wondered how long it had been seen I had done so before.

It was easy to talk to Edward, comfortable even, and the conversation flowed effortlessly.

I told him that I hadn't remembered that I hated brussels sprouts until I ate one, causing a mortifying and all-too-public spitting incident in the dining room. Once I had recalled this, I instantly recollected almost all of my food likes and dislikes, the brussels sprouts acting as a trigger. We both hated liver. Edward loved most seafood, whereas I only really liked fish with a mild flavor.

Another time, after hearing a snatch of music, I realized I had inherited my mother's love of eighties music, while Edward preferred swing and jazz. We argued in a good-natured fashion about whether eighties music had soul. Edward even played an instrument; the saxophone. He told me how his mother had made him and his siblings all take piano lessons when they were younger, much to his disgust. He had wanted to play something a bit "cooler." He told me how at age eight, he had negotiated a compromise. He had to learn the piano until he could read music and pass the beginner's exam, and when had done so, he got to choose his own instrument.

"I bet you're really good at it, too. You have such long and graceful fingers for a man," I babbled.

A titter broke our comfortable little bubble, and I looked up to see Alice and Jasper standing hand-in-hand in the doorway.

"Yeah, all the girls say that," said Jasper, a grin lighting up his eyes.

"You are too cute, Bella," added Alice, the source of the tittering. I looked up to see Edward blushing and clearing his throat loudly in annoyance.

"Sorry, I think my mental filter must still be out for repairs," I said by way of apology. Alice was grinning like the cat that ate the canary, her assessing gaze bouncing between Edward and me.

"You ready to go, Edward?" Jasper asked. "Alice has another session in ten minutes."

"Out to hound some other poor resident, Alice? Going to make them sweat off ten pounds until they're begging for mercy?" I teased Alice.

"You better believe it, baby! Wait until you see what I have planned for _you _tomorrow," Alice threatened, pointing her manicured finger at me in mock threat.

I let my head fall back in feigned exasperation as I groaned at the thought, only to see Edward abruptly jump to his feet. He pushed Alice and Jasper out of the doorway, instructing them to say their goodbyes.

"Well, Bella, it has been a pleasure to see looking so much better." He self-consciously looked down at his feet. "I really enjoyed chatting with you off the clock like this." He looked up, and once again, I found myself lost in those green eyes. "I hope we get to do it again soon."

"I…ah…I'd really like that, too…umm…soon…whenever," I stuttered. I cleared my throat, trying to gather my thoughts, which had scattered like leaves in the wind under the heavy weight of his gaze. I tried to sound somewhat coherent.

"That would be nice, Edward. Thanks for the visit, and for helping me get here. Everything, really."

I hesitantly reached out my left hand, not sure if I was brave enough to touch or shake his but wanting desperately to try. To my relief, he reached out his own, meeting me half way. Instead of just shaking hands, he engulfed my hand in his own. Just like the consoling hug in the hospital, I was surrounded by his warmth. I looked at our joined hands, mesmerized by the sight−by how right and perfect it looked. With a last brief squeeze, he was gone and I was alone again. I curled my hand in my lap, clinging to the feeling of his hand linked with mine, as a warm feeling spread through my chest.

_Oh, yes, _I thought. _Edward Cullen can come and hold my hand anytime._

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**I hate brussel sprouts (Sorry Rags. I know the dictionary calls them "brussels sprouts", but I have gone my whole life thinking of them without the 's'. I still think it looks odd, but in the interest of making an effort, I did it the dictionary way) **

**So, tell me dear readers, what part of you would you like Edward to hold? Lets see what ffnet's profanity filter does with your ideas.**


	19. Chapter 18

**This chapter is dedicated to the memory of Senior Constable Damian Leeding of the Queensland Police (Australia). He passed away yesterday after being shot in the face attending an armed robbery. He was 35 and leaves behind his wife Sonya (also a police officer), a 3 month old daughter, Grace and a 2 year old son, Hudson. I didn't know him but I still cried for him and his devastated family.**

**No job should ask that much.**

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**Chapter 18**

_**Bella**_

I fell easily into the routine at the clinic. My days were full of activity, some of which I even enjoyed. This was just as well, as I found myself desperately needing the constant activity to distract myself. The minute my mind was unoccupied, my thoughts would immediately drift to memories of a certain tall Adonis. I had all but given up analyzing my dreams, my waking reflections of _his _visit much more fascinating and…stimulating.

I rehashed every aspect of our all-too-brief exchange. I recalled in minute detail every word he'd spoken−the tone of his voice, and the feelings and impressions I imagined that could be behind each word. I thought back to how, as we'd chatted, he seemed relaxed and unrestrained. That had been a stark contrast to how he'd behaved when he was there as a police officer, rather than there as just Edward. I mused over the way he looked, so striking and handsome. Even his voice was enticing, so smooth and melodic. I could vividly recall the feeling of his hand around mine, and how the warmth of his touch seemed to travel through my whole body, bringing to life parts of me that had lain dormant until now. He made me think and feel things I never had before, and my body's reactions were new and thrilling, but also anxiety provoking.

I knew these feelings were wrong. Edward was a police officer. Keeping in touch and helping me was his professional duty. I scolded myself constantly, ashamed by my errant and self-absorbed thoughts. I was sure my daydreaming was merely a result of wishful thinking and my own inexperience. My memory was slowly coming back, and I could recall deliberately keeping away from most men as much as possible after I'd had a few bad experiences with my mom's boyfriends. I had taken this avoidance to another level as I got older, actively shunning any potential interactions with the opposite sex−with anyone, really.

Both Edward and Jasper had been kind to me at a time I when I had been extremely vulnerable, and my new girlish crush had caused my inner sensibility to go all goo-goo eyed and gushy.

_Time for a hearty dose of common sense and a_ _reality check_, I mentally chastised myself. Officer Cullen was very nice and extremely gorgeous, but he was just doing his job. He could have no interest in me outside of his professional capacity.

Each weekday at the clinic was reassuringly similar. An aide would still come every morning to help me shower, but as I began to heal I grew stronger and could manage more on my own. I would go to the dining room for meals, trying to sit with someone different each time so I could get to know everyone. I would then sweat out the morning in physical therapy with Alice, the demon monster task master from hell. Vivacious and energetic, Alice had one speed only−flat out. She was forever demanding "just that little bit harder," or "a few minutes more," and sometimes "you're not sweating! You mustn't be putting enough effort in." She was relentless. Sometimes, she would break up the gym routine with other activities, like bowling or cycling. They had special four wheeled bikes that could be operated with only one good leg, and a network of meandering concrete paths throughout the parkland. I sweated enough cycling to even satisfy evil Alice.

As much as I called Alice every name I could string together in the privacy of my head, I had come to welcome her assignment as the key therapist allocated to oversee my recovery. She would come and do my hair for me most mornings and would have either breakfast or lunch with me at least every second day.

She even drove me to the nearby medical center and held my hand as a doctor removed the stitches in my scalp. I had some X-rays to check that my fractures were healing properly, and they sawed off the heavy plaster cast to remove the staples in my leg. I couldn't look during that part; one brief glimpse of the metal clips digging into my flesh was enough to make my head spin sickeningly. Alice insisted my plaster cast be replaced with a lighter fiberglass one, to get rid of the weight and allow me greater movement, just as she had with my arm. She recommended I go with the blue-colored fiberglass, saying it was my color−whatever that meant.

She also took me to visit a hairdresser. I thought she'd just been making an empty offer when she had said she would take me for a proper haircut, but Alice had been serious. I couldn't remember the last time I had my hair cut. The flamboyantly-dressed man raved over my long locks, demanding that I never color my hair, exclaiming that it would be a sin against nature since it had its own natural highlights to die for. I walked out with the wispy bangs suggested by Alice and long layers everywhere else. I had to admit I loved how the fringe added softness to my face, and the way my hair curled softly with the lightness the layering added.

When she wasn't harrying me to do better, push harder, or give more, Alice was good company. Never at a loss for conversation, she constantly chatted about her life, Jasper, her family and her plans for the future. She would find something to do or say instantly if she thought I was becoming too introspective or gloomy.

One day I asked her if she ever got bored with my company, to which she responded that we were a perfect match, as she had a distinct flair for talking and I showed exceptional talent at listening. I had never had a close girlfriend that I could remember, so it was nice to feel I was developing something like that with Alice.

After lunch, I would have an hour-long session of occupational therapy. My tasks were mainly memory games. My short-term memory was sometimes a bit lacking, and I had still not recovered all my long term memories. The games improved my recall and helped build my confidence, making me feel that maybe they would all come back eventually.

My favorite time of day was "creative healing," the fanciful title they had for the arts and crafts program. During my first session, I was a little apprehensive about what we would be doing. Alice had explained that the program was run in a separate wing, which contained several studios. Residents could choose which type of session they wanted to participate in and could rotate through them all, or chose to specialize just in one main area. There was the woodwork workshop, the pottery shed, the craft room, the art studio, and the metalwork factory. There was also a different "facilitator" for each room.

I decided to go with art. This was something I felt familiar with and remembered enjoying in the past.

An aide pushed me into the studio, where four other residents were already waiting. The room was large and sunny. One whole wall consisted of floor to ceiling windows, allowing natural light to pour in and illuminate the cavernous space. I could smell the combined scents of linseed oil and turpentine, along with something dryer, almost chalky. Several easels were set out and a few low tilted boards of the kind used by draftsmen. The aide pushed me to one of the lower easels, which was just the right height to work in from my chair.

A door to the left opened, and a woman came striding out purposefully. Standing at six foot in her flat-soled, steel-capped boots was who I assumed to be our facilitator. She was dressed in faded and shapeless bottle-green coveralls, stiff with patches of dried paint and clear glue. The sleeves were rolled up to expose shapely, but likewise paint-stained forearms. A red kerchief held her fair hair off her face, the rest of her hair tied into a straggly bun hidden by the kerchief flap. She wore a pair of clear safety glasses to complete her utilitarian ensemble. Instead of the friendly grins sported by most of the staff, she was scowling and silent−no fake platitudes or concern here.

Going to a nearby cupboard, the art teacher pulled out several boxes before handing them to us individually. I took the one she proffered with a meek "thank you," feeling a bit intimidated by the teacher's forceful presence, before opening the box to peer inside. The box held sticks of pastels in every color imaginable, almost like chalk but with a finer texture. The woman then stomped around the room, clipping cartridge paper to our easels. Facing the small group, she hastily cleared her throat to gain our attention.

"As you all know by now, as a 'therapy program,' I have to incorporate some bullshit sort of topic into each session when I submit a lesson plan to show how this is helping you all meet your rehabilitation goals." The woman rolled her eyes as she did the air quote marks. "So, for today, I want you to start with something about someone who has helped you along your recovery. After you finish with that crap, you can focus on whatever you want to work on". With that, the woman disappeared behind her own easel. I sat there for a minute, stunned by this rebellious little speech. The staff at the clinic were all usually so professional and very focused on their particular role in the bigger overall plan of the residents' recuperation. This woman clearly did not conform to this mold, nor seemed to want to either.

I looked to the single desk, the sort universally reserved for the teacher. Pushed into the corner, it was piled with paper, books, art supplies and coffee mugs−not the bare surface one would attribute to a new staff member. It looked like she had been there for a while, then.

I shrugged mentally and turned towards my blank sheet of paper. The board of management must know what this woman was like and still kept her on, so who was I to question things.

As I regarded the virgin piece of paper before me, I contemplated who or what I would attempt to draw. After I considered and discarded several ideas, I went back to my first clear memory of the first pleasant thing I could remember since my "accident." I unclipped the paper before turning it to a landscape orientation and then picked up a stubby piece of yellow pastel, hesitantly making a start.

It had been some time since I had done this; it had been in high school if my memory served me. My mother had dragged me off to several artist colonies and retreats during my teenage years. She had fancied herself as a painter for a while during one of her phases, and we had many appalling abstract canvasses hung in various rooms of the house during that time.

As my hand swept the chalky stick over the paper, it felt almost natural, as if my hand knew what to do without my brain trying. The brace did not hamper my movements much at all, and it felt nice−gratifying even−to move my limbs for another purpose other than exercise, therapy, or functional reasons.

As I tried to translate the image in my head to a likeness on the paper, I found myself becoming engrossed with the task, awareness of my surroundings falling away with my absorbed concentration.

I was jolted from my trance-like state by a hand covering my own.

"Smudge the edges, like this."

A hand directed mine, the owner's voice soft behind me. I looked over my shoulder, my startled eyes meeting the cornflower blue ones of our teacher.

"It'll give you that luminescence you're trying to capture."

She stepped away then, going to review someone else's work, so I turned my attention back to my picture.

Eventually, the change in the light alerted me to the passing of time, and when I looked up, I was the only resident still here. I stretched as well as I could, not realizing how cramped my muscles had become with the repetitive use.

The art teacher popped her head out from behind her easel and came over to critique my work.

"It's a bit raw, but the scene calls for it. I love how the person here is almost haloed in the light; she looks almost angelic."

The scene depicted two women. One was lying prone, covered in white, almost laid out like a corpse. The only visible color on the figure was the green and blue blotches of bruising, and the trailing mahogany sweep of her long hair. The other woman stood tall and upright, dressed in formless blue, as she combed the prone woman's hair. Gauzy billowing curtains behind the standing figure gave the impression of wings, and the golden sunshine streaming through the window lent her radiance, enhancing her angelic appearance.

"She was nice to me. She cleaned me up and took care of me, comforted me. Such a little thing, but it meant a lot. I can't even remember my own mother attending to me with such tenderness and care," I whispered my explanation, my voice shaking with remembered emotion.

Bringing up an aerosol can, the teacher lightly sprayed my picture.

"Workable Fixative, makes your pastel work durable. It won't smudge by accident now."

We both continued appraising my work. I was amazed with how the image had flowed so effortlessly from my mind to the page. As the teacher had said, it was raw, but it was also realistic enough for a first effort.

"You seem to have a natural talent for this. With a bit of guidance, you could develop and improve your technique considerably. Come by any time." With that, she turned on her booted heel and walked towards the exit. At the door, she faced me again briefly.

"I'm Rosalie, by the way. But I let people I like call me Rose. Be seeing ya."

Rose's studio became a refuge of sorts for me after that. I quickly learned I could pour all my frustration, anger, and often bewilderment into the pieces I created. Rose would have a different medium for us to try and provide a theme but didn't push if we decided to do our own thing. In just a few sessions, I could see the improvement Rose's guidance gave my work. Brisk and to the point, she did not give out praise readily, so I learned to treasure those few comments she did make.

Some days it would just be the two of us working side by side. These were the days I enjoyed the most. Rose did not bother with conversation or questions; we would just work in companionable silence. When we did talk, it was usually purely instructional. She would show me how to achieve a particular effect or would ask about the background or feeling behind an individual piece.

This proved to be the best sort of therapy for me. I never really verbalized this until Rose asked me about it one day. The theme that day had been "memory," a thinly veiled prod in my direction. We were using acrylics−my favorite medium. I loved the depth of color and texture you could achieve with this type of paint.

My piece was mostly black, dotted with occasional gray, misty patches. In the patches, I had painted little figures: my parents, Wendy the nurse, Edward, Jasper, Alice and even Rose. I had also painted a smug-looking elephant sitting on top of the black sphere, representing the memories I knew were there somewhere, awaiting recovery or the right trigger.

"Tell me about this," Rose asked.

"Well, the black represents all that is lost or hidden in my head. The gray is my memories of people that matter, now and before. I can't trust the other memories yet. They don't come back in any order I can make sense of so far. They don't just roll out like a movie; I just get bits and pieces here and there. The elephant is the attack or accident−whatever the hell happened to me that day."

I turned to meet her probing eyes again.

"From what I can remember, I've never been much of a talker. I think I was alone a lot. Like, nearly all the time. When I do this−" I waved my free hand over my artwork, "−it all just sort of tumbles out, like a purging. I can get all of the feeling and emotion out, so I don't hang onto it. Although, sometimes what I produce is not what I consciously set out to create, I feel lighter for it."

"That's why I got stuck with the jerk-off title of 'creative healing,'" Rose replied with a rare smile. It transformed her face.

_How have I not noticed how stunning she is before now?_

As her smile faded, her expression turned somber.

"Other than the emotional ups and downs, have you had any other fall-out from your experience?" she asked, speculation plain in the tone of her voice.

"I keep having this recurring dream, but other than that?" I paused for a minute, giving her question careful consideration. "Not really. I'm not scared of strangers or jumping at noises, if that's what you mean. I don't like the dark anymore, though. I have to have a light on somewhere in my room every night. Not being able to remember anything is really frustrating at times, too."

Rose seemed to weigh her words carefully before speaking again, her apprehension clear.

"Have you ever considered it might be better not to know some things−to not remember?"

This question really threw me. I had been trying so hard, almost straining my poor muddled brain at times to drag up something, _anything_ about what had happened. As I absorbed Rose's words, I felt my apprehension grow.

Could she be right? Were my memories imperfect and disorganized for a reason? Had my failure to recover some at all been a deliberate move on the part of my brain? Was my brain trying to protect me from something?

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**Thanks to my wonderful beta's Ragsstone and ShowtunesJesus. I have learned more about English vs American than I thought possible. How can such a common tongue have such geographically different rules?**

**Hope you a feeling better Go Ask Alix :)**

**Thanks for the laugh last week, lovely readers! I enjoyed hearing which part of you would be offered to Edward for...holding, lol.**

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	20. Chapter 19

**Thanks to my beta fairies, ShowtunesJesus and Ragsstone, who work their magic to make this pretty.**

**Thank you for the lovely reviews last week. I think I smiled at every single one, since they all contained such nice things. Esme would be proud of your impeccable manners.**

**You all know how it goes, SMeyer owns ****Twilight, yada yada yada...**

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**Chapter 19**

_**Edward**_

It was Friday. The sun was shining and the weather was mild−perfect for taking a run outside. Sadly, Jasper and I were stuck at the federal courthouse, waiting our turn to testify in a felony case. On a routine patrol last year, we had arrested a man for driving without a license or current insurance. When we had called the dispatcher to run down his details, it turned out he was wanted for a bank robbery. Good collar for us, and hopefully a few years off the streets for him.

The worst part was the boredom. We would often have to wait for hours, sometimes even days while the lawyers argued their cases and tried to get evidence, statements, and documents declared invalid or inadmissible. We couldn't even pass the time listening to the proceedings. To avoid prejudicing their testimony, all witnesses had to wait outside until called.

The only distraction was watching the endless parade of people passing in front of our seats. There were the neatly and professionally dressed courthouse employees: clerks, stenographers, and security staff. Then there were the lawyers: expensively dressed in somber suits, they often travelled with an entourage of underlings pulling trolleys piled high with boxed files.

Then there were the accused and their families. They generally did not sit close to us, as we were viewed as the enemy. They slouched against walls and fidgeted, frequently disappearing outside for yet another cigarette or talking endlessly into mobile phones. Some saw it as a challenge to try to stare us down. After almost five years on the job, I had the steely mask and unyielding calm down pat, although Jasper's uncanny knack for knowing people's weak spots usually meant they caved in the line of his death stare quicker than mine.

I let my mind drift, and as it frequently did, it found its way to its favorite topic of contemplation−_Bella_. It had been two and a half long weeks since I had seen her last. No new leads came in about her case, so we'd had no excuse to visit her since then. It didn't stop me thinking of her, though.

When I'd driven Alice's car out to the clinic that day, I promised myself I wouldn't push things or go looking for her. If our paths happened to cross, I would take that as a sign from the universe−an affirmation−and I would do the polite thing and talk to her.

_I hope the universe likes me today, _I remembered thinking as I had entered the building.

Jasper and Alice had arranged to meet me in the dining room, and as I followed the hallway there, I had heard her voice somewhere off to the side of the hall. She was patiently instructing someone how to do…something.

As I had peered around the doorway, I saw she was sitting in her wheelchair with the cast extended in front of her. She wore a floaty blouse that kept threatening to fall off her shoulder, and a long denim skirt that covered her entire lower half. At her side sat a burly man, youngish, also in a wheelchair. Their heads were bent over their task, and the young man's tongue poked out the side of his mouth as he concentrated fiercely on his handiwork. Bella's forehead was almost touching his oily black hair, which was so thick that it reminded me of an animal pelt. He sat so close to her that their arms were almost touching. A flare of aggravation and envy sparked within me, and I cleared my throat loudly to gain Bella's attention. My irritation must have been plain as I stared down my competition. It seemed there was competition for her attention everywhere there, a thought which filled me with both trepidation and annoyance. I had yet to see another female resident, so I imagine Bella's presence at the clinic was somewhat of a novelty.

When Bella looked up, I was struck again by how truly lovely she looked. Her skin was glowing, still pale but with a bloom good food and returning health had added. Her glorious long brown hair was tied up that day, a long satiny tail of it trailing over her shoulder in soft curls.

_I think I prefer it down_, I thought distractedly as I skimmed her features, noticing how much better she looked now the bruises were fading. I smiled, feeling it light up my whole being.

_She was recovering_−_whole_. I felt both relieved and reassured.

Her eyes again caught my notice. They were so expressive; the deep brown sparkled with more comprehension and intelligence, compared to last time we had met when her memory had been so acutely affected.

The boy soon left, and I couldn't help myself, I had to ask if he meant anything to her. Her funny snort was all the answer I needed. When she explained how he kept trying unsuccessfully to flirt with her, I almost felt sorry for him. _Almost._ Who wouldn't want to try their luck with the affections of such a breathtaking woman? If it were me, I'd want to monopolize her time, too.

She even laughed at my coy observation, a full, sexy, throaty laugh−not the inane giggling so many girls thought was cute. I went from light to light-headed, as blood rushed from one part of my body too rapidly to another. I could feel the growing swelling in my pants, pulsating and wanting. God almighty, that woman kept me second-guessing myself; my reactions to her were all so unexpected. I tried to move discretely and clenched my thighs, hoping to redirect the traitorous flow of blood before she noticed anything.

We talked for a while after that, sharing small details of our lives, simple things that I had never really thought important enough to talk about with anyone else. It was so easy to be myself with her. She was natural and uncomplicated. This put me at ease, and I found myself relaxing. It felt as if, for once, I didn't have to examine and weigh everything I said.

I was intrigued by her, and seeing her so animated and relaxed as she chatted was wonderful. She smiled and laughed often, and I was captivated−gone. I was an idiot for thinking I ever stood a chance at resisting, as her allure was too much to deny.

I would have to be on my guard when I saw her in my working capacity. One slip and I would jeopardize everything, for all of us. I would just have to bide my time and hope that we could resolve her case quickly. Once it was settled, one way or another, I would be free to see where this undeniable attraction I felt for her could take me…or, hopefully, us.

And then she said something about my hands again. Before I could control myself, my thoughts leapt to what I would like to be doing to her with them.

Like he had radar for Bella's confessions and my potential embarrassment, Jasper appeared. He made some snide comment that caused me to flush again in discomfort. I almost wished it were a case of the previous, embarrassing sort of blood flow problem. Now he would definitely know something was going on.

Then Bella had done something startling in response to something Alice said while Jasper and I were sharing our "moment"; she threw her head back and let out the most erotic sound I had ever heard. Suddenly, blushing wasn't much of a problem anymore, as the embarrassing tightening in my pants was more of an immediate issue.

This woman made my body react as if I were a sixteen-year-old again. I stood quickly, hoping to make a speedy exit to give myself time to regain my composure before I had to get in the car with Jasper for the return trip home. As we said our private goodbye, the sign I was praying for came as she reached for me. The heavenly choirs sang "Hallelujah" in my head as I held her hand, hoping, wishing that she might feel a small measure of what I was certain I now did.

The sound of shuffling feet and the creak of the heavy double doors of the nearby court room broke my contemplations and brought me back to the present, as a throng of people filed out of the room. A bailiff approached us, explaining that the case had been adjourned for another week so the defense team could call more witnesses. I let out a sigh of relief. Although it meant repeating the whole routine again in the future, I just was not in the mood for it all at the moment.

As we returned to the squad car, I switched my phone back on, finding a voice message alert. I pressed a button to retrieve it.

"Hello, Officer Cullen? This is Edna Cope at State U. I've gotten a confirmation of Isabella Swan's last interaction with us, as you requested. Oh, and somebody found some items on campus marked with her name. If you'd like to call by, I'd be happy to give them to you. Bye, now."

I felt a small surge of anticipation that came with a new morsel of information in a dormant case.

"Hey, Jazz, do we have time to swing by the university? Someone called me with some new info on Bella's case."

Jasper shrugged. "Why not? They're not expecting us back at the precinct today anyway."

When we arrived, the campus was eerily deserted. It was summer break, and the campus was staffed by a skeleton crew. We headed straight for the general office to meet with Mrs. Cope. Once there, she informed us that Isabella Swan had definitely been on campus on Wednesday, the second of June. At three in the afternoon, the campus library system recorded that she had returned a poetry book, as verified by the library CCTV. Unfortunately, the CCTV cameras only monitored the main returns and enquiry desks, along with the front entrance with its afterhours return chute. There was another exit that had no coverage of any sort, and the footage of the main entrance did not show Bella's time of departure. This could only mean she had exited using the unmonitored door.

At four p.m. she had turned in her last term paper. All papers included a standard coversheet. As was the usual procedure for hand-delivered assignments, they were signed by the student, witnessed, dated and marked with the time of submission by the department secretary. We now had two confirmed sightings the day before she failed to attend her regular job.

Mrs. Cope then handed over a large spiral bound notebook bulging with stapled pages, and a gray hoodie. Both were labeled neatly with her name. They had been found by a cleaner in a study carrel off the classic literature section of the library. Apparently, the cubicle was in a rarely used annex and had not been noticed for some time. The book was full of notes for her final essay, a piece that was worth a significant amount of her final grade judging from the assignment outline stapled inside the cover.

As we returned to our car, possibilities and speculation whizzed around in my head. This was the last time anyone had seen Bella. Her notes and sweater were found in the library. It was unlikely that she had left them there on purpose. Had something or someone interrupted her, luring her away? Had she been forcibly taken from there or somewhere nearby? It had been during the examination period, so it was likely that the library would have been full of other students cramming for exams. That fact alone would have made it difficult for someone to abduct her without either of them being seen.

Perhaps she had left her things in the library to go to the Humanities Faculty to submit her paper, intending to return to the library and retrieve her items later.

We would have to look closely at the campus now. We would need to speak to Bella again and see if this new information could jog her memory a little. I tried not to let my excitement show when Jasper reached the same conclusion.

_Time for another trip towards temptation, _I thought happily_._

It was after five o'clock by the time we arrived at the Glenvale clinic. Afternoon therapy sessions had finished, and supper wasn't until six, so there were residents everywhere in the common areas. We asked a staff member where she might be and were directed to try the dining room.

As we walked through the hallways to find Bella, I noticed something startling. Almost all the wheelchair bound residents wore a similar style of socks. It was hard not to notice, since most could not wear footwear of any sort, and their socks were very..._vibrant._ They were made of some thick chunky weave and were colored with alternating stripes in a blinding array of hues. Once I spotted the socks, I registered that those sporting arm casts had similarly patterned gloves, some fingerless, in the same variety of colors.

_Odd, is this a new trend in rehabilitation?_ I couldn't remember seeing such things the previous time we had visited.

When we found Bella, the reason for this new fashion became apparent. Some of the tables and chairs had been pushed aside to make room for the circle containing six or seven residents. Bella sat in her chair at the head of the circle knitting, demonstrating the required technique, as the others hunched forward, watching with rapt attention. She was showing them how to do the heel part of the sock, her needles held awkwardly in front of her body so her attentive protégés could get the best view. Her own feet were adorned with her handiwork in varying shades of green. With her long brown hair, restrained by a headband of some sort, and the hunched figures surrounding her, the scene reminded me of Snow White, surrounded by her seven dwarves. I almost laughed aloud at the thought.

"May we interrupt and have a word, Miss Swan?" asked Jasper, moving to stand next to her wheelchair. Bella looked up at Jasper's enquiry, her face lighting up with a smile to rival my own when she saw us both waiting patiently. Making her excuses to her pupils and throwing last minute instructions over her shoulder, she pointed to the doorway as Jasper wheeled her out of the room.

"Come to my room. It's about the only quiet place this close to suppertime," she explained before giving directions.

"So, knitting, Bella?" Jasper asked, making small talk.

"Your feet get really cold when you can't move around on your own," she replied by way of explanation. "I used to knit a lot to help pass the time when I finished studying. It's almost like a form of meditation for me. When I started making some socks for myself, the other residents decided they wanted some too, and I couldn't knit fast enough to keep up with demand. I started teaching them how to make their own, and now a lot of them are knitting. It's a very useful therapeutic activity, Dr. Makenna says. It can help reduce anxiety and stress, and prevents dementia. He's really pleased and even said it should be introduced to the program permanently," she stated with a hint of pride in her voice. She pulled a key attached to a spiral spring cord out of her pocket and unlocked her door. We all entered, Jasper parking her chair near the settee on which we both sat.

"Why are yours green?" I asked, puzzled, since they did not match her red t-shirt and loose black pants.

She looked a little nervous and began to fiddle with the hem of her shirt before stammering out her answer. "Um, I…green is…it reminds me of…it's my favorite color," she admitted, her words coming out in a rush. Jasper grinned wryly, shooting a sly look my way. I just sat there, puzzled, trying to work out what Jasper's look could mean.

"When we went to check your apartment, we didn't see any of your knitting," Jasper observed.

Her fiddling increased as she stared down into her lap, clearly reluctant with the turn in conversation.

"I…ah…gave it all away." She looked up briefly, as if monitoring our reaction, before again staring at her lap.

"I used to have a lot of time to fill and made much more than I ever needed. I…um, donated it all to the homeless shelter in the city."

"That's really nice of you, Bella. I'm sure they appreciated warm things like those. I bet they last longer than store-bought things, too," Jasper pointed out.

Her cheeks pinked up with the praise.

"So what brings you both here?" she deflected, finally looking up again.

I related the new information we had received about her last corroborated movements, handing her the notebook and sweater. She examined them both closely, flicking through the handwritten pages in the notebook.

"I can't remember going to the library that particular day, although I used to go there all the time. I never used to leave anything behind, though. When I was done for the day, everything always went back into my bag. "

"Do you remember anything of those last few days of the school semester?"

She began picking at the stitches on the hem of her shirt again, her shoulders slumping and her face sad.

"I remember most things now," she answered but did not look as relieved or pleased with this new knowledge as I had anticipated. "Everything, except that week. Things from earlier on, I remember well. Stuff from when I was a teenager, and certainly the last few years are not so clear." She raised her head and seemed to stare into the distance, as if picking her words.

"It's like looking through hazy fog. The general outline is there, but no so much of the detail or color. Dr. Makenna said some of that might come back with time." I could see the sorrow intensify, and her eyes filled with tears she fought to contain as she stared fixedly at a spot on the wall.

"When I finally remembered it, my life was nothing like I thought it would be. Things…happened…and I grew up thinking it was best if no one noticed me. I sort of hid for a while, and eventually it became a habit. My mom got…sick, so I had to take care of her most of the time. Then, she−" She looked down again, wiping her eyes.

"I have been on my own for a while. I think I might have been depressed, and that made me become more…withdrawn. I didn't have much of a life…" she mumbled.

Jasper put his hand on her shoulder, and meeting her eyes he assured her that she didn't have to live like that anymore, if she didn't want to.

Bella let out a tearful splutter, a poor imitation of her usual laugh. "There's this teacher here who says the same thing. She said it's time I got my shit together and started living. That this was my wake-up call, my 'do over' time. She's right. I need to decide what I'm going to do with myself after here because before, I simply existed. I wasn't really moving forward with anything."

My heart clenched at seeing her abject misery, and I wished I could be the one physically comforting her, as I had last time. It took all my strength to restrain myself from acting in a way I knew I couldn't while wearing the uniform.

"I don't even feel like that person anymore. Rosalie said maybe I finally had some sense knocked into me during the attack."

I almost choked on her poor attempt at humor, horrified that anything about the vicious assault could be construed as a good thing.

"I asked Dr. Makenna, and he said the most likely explanation was that the brain contusion has altered my personality slightly. I was really shy before, and I blushed all the time. I couldn't look anyone in the eye when I had to speak to them." As if to make a point of how different she now was, she looked up, locking her gaze with mine. I could see the drive there−the desire to be different to that other, lesser Bella. I tried to convey my belief in her strength through my eyes, wanting to reassure her, bolster her spirits.

Jasper interrupted our silent communication. "Did you say Rosalie?" he chuckled. "That sounds like her."

"Do you know Rose, too?" queried Bella, using the distraction to compose herself.

"You could say that. She's married to my brother," I answered.

Once again, we had rendered Bella speechless.

"It's okay, Bella. That's the extent of our family connections here," I added, wanting to reassure her.

"She and Alice have been so nice to me that I've really come to consider them both as friends. I'm so thankful I ended up here. They've both really helped me in different ways."

She chuckled, looking up at us under her lashes. "Maybe I need to meet more of your family. I've still got some work to do straightening out my life. You've all been so kind and helpful. Imagine what I could achieve with the combined forces of the whole Cullen family behind me."

I barely heard her discussion with Jasper about her upcoming home visit, as my mind reeled and my pulse raced.

_That look−so sweet and innocent, yet so hot_.

It was her last comment that really threw me, though.

The trouble was, I could imagine it perfectly. Too perfectly. And I liked it.

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**Which Cullen would you most like to help you, and what would you get them to help with?**


	21. Chapter 20

**Thanks to the combined skills of Ragsstone and ShowtunesJesus, you don't have to trip over comma's reading this story. I've been blessed with beta's and have recieved invaluable assistance from these ladies and my beta-author-fic reccer friend Bower_of_Bliss.**

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**SMeyer wrote the original. I'm not copying, I just use her pieces to make a different puzzle.**

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**Chapter 20**

_**Bella**_

My stomach churned. I was anxious and excited at the same time. I was finally going home, albeit only for the weekend. I would still be in my own place, all by myself, for the first time in five weeks.

I could hardly believe that five whole weeks had passed since my "accident." To me, it felt like my whole life had both finished and started the day of the attack. In a way, it had. My old life, which had been so blurry and barely lived, had ended that night. My new one started the moment Edward and Jasper saved me. After that evening a week ago when I had last spoken with my saviors, I decided to take Rose's advice and start truly living my life, rather than just letting it pass me by as I cowered away from everything.

I let my imagination loose and began to think about all the things I felt I missed out on, too scared to allow myself to try. There were so many things I had never taken the opportunity to do before. Determined to remedy this situation, I sat down one night and wrote a list of all of the things I wanted to do in the future. Setting down my goals had been almost as cathartic as painting. It felt very satisfying to finally have something to work toward and to strive to achieve something I wanted. I made sure to include both short term and long term goals. This would help keep me motivated and to avoid discouragement when some of my ambitions took a while to accomplish.

The previous day, Alice had driven me back to the medical clinic for the final time. There, I again had some x-rays taken, and at long last my leg cast was removed. The doctor explained that not everyone needed a cast after a fracture was surgically repaired as mine had been. Because all of my bones had been broken, extra measures had been required to ensure I healed well and regained normal movement in my leg.

It was strange looking at my limb again without its plaster burden. Thin and slightly wasted from five weeks of inactivity, it looked impossibly whiter than the rest of my already pale skin. And much hairier; I would have to do something about that soon. It would be almost blissful to be able to attend to my own hygiene needs unassisted, now that I could ditch the arm brace too. I would have to wear the new one on my leg for another three weeks when I was up and about during the day but I could go without it at night.

For the first time in a while, my body would be free of all major encumbrances. My bruises were all gone and my wounds healed. The only lasting physical reminder I had was the pink bands of scarring that circled my wrists and the slightly raised purple welts where my stitches and staples had been. I expected the scars from the staples and had been assured that if I used the special skin oil I had been given, even those would fade with time. The deep gouges left by the rope that had bound my wrists I had not anticipated, but they were not entirely unexpected considering how deep the abrasions were. I applied the same skin treatment to this area but would have to look at something to disguise them, or else be ready to field questions about how I got them. I knew I definitely wasn't ready yet for that.

Of course, I still had the same recurring dream and fear of the dark. I did not have the dream every night, but often enough all the same. I would have to get around to looking at a dream interpretation book one day to see if there was any reason the dream kept coming.

Alice had offered to drive me home, but as this visit was a test of how I could manage independently, I felt like I had to do everything on my own as a true trial run. Whatever happened, I would still be attending Glenvale as a day patient for another three to four weeks to continue my therapy. I hadn't quite worked out the logistics of getting to the clinic yet, as my building was forty minutes away by cab and even longer if I used public transport.

I let myself into my apartment. I had to get another set of keys from the superintendent, since the messenger bag I had used on a daily basis had never been found. My bag had contained my keys and wallet, neither of which had been recovered. I stood in my tiny living room, breathing in the stale air and re-acclimating myself with my home. Although I had lived here since starting college almost three years ago, in many ways it felt like the first time I had ever been there.

I had never really realized how bland and impersonal the space was. As I ran my hands over the top of the dusty bookshelf, the only things I felt really attached to were my books. Even the pictures of my parents felt like something I had felt I should display, rather than being my treasured possessions. My dad had hated having his picture taken, hence the reason I had so few of him. I could remember my mother saying she had insisted he sit for both of the formal ones I displayed. The snapshot of my mom was taken on our last road trip together about two years before she died. I had caught her at an off moment, firing off the shot as she turned toward me before she'd had time to refuse.

I did a quick walk through of each room, which took all of a minute.

With a resigned sigh, I decided to tackle the kitchen first. It was barely ten o'clock in the morning, but I knew I would have some cleaning work to do before I could contemplate making lunch. I opened the fridge, immediately assaulted by the odor of spoiled food. I grabbed a trash bag, donned some rubber gloves, and began piling things in the bag. Once all the shelves were empty, I washed them down with warm water and vinegar.

I would have to do some food shopping. I wouldn't need much, as I only planned to get enough for the weekend. I made a brief list, and as I got ready to leave, I checked my mail box on the way out of the building. Considering the length of my absence, there was very little in there. Most were utility bills or generic mail addressed "To the Householder." One bore a familiar logo, and I opened it first as I started walking.

It was a letter from Safeway's head office. I stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk as I read on, stunned by its contents. Apparently, they had reconsidered the events surrounding my termination after an Officer Cullen had sent them a letter and medical certificate on my behalf, explaining the reason for my absence from work.

_Holy Shit! Edward had wrote to them! He did that…for me…_

When Edward and Jasper had first told me I had been fired, I hadn't really felt concerned or upset, since I hadn't remembered working there at all. Once I recovered most of my memories, I had been more than a little annoyed and disappointed. I had worked there for three years, doing whatever crappy tasks they asked for without complaint. I had filled in for others with little notice and worked over the holidays many times. The one time I couldn't work−after someone had tried to kill me, no less−I was cast out by someone who didn't even remember me. It wasn't like I loved the job; it was merely a means to an end for me−another way to stretch my income. I always tried to do things properly and with dedication, even my crappy check-out chick job. It stung to have been canned, especially as essentially it wasn't my fault. Reading that I had been placed on temporary leave for medical reasons gave me a small sense of vindication. As soon as I had medical clearance to resume employment, I would be welcome to return, the letter stated.

_If I wanted to go back, that is_.

I wasn't sure yet. It would be something for me to consider over the next few weeks.

I was touched that Edward had gone out of his way to intervene on my behalf. It meant a lot, knowing someone cared enough to do something so unexpected. I would have to tell him how thankful I was.

I started walking again, taking my time as I made my way slowly around the block to the small corner grocery store. Although it was close by and therefore very convenient, I had hardly shopped there before. I had gotten most of things with my staff discount at the Safeway store. I didn't want to travel across town on my first day back, though, and didn't know if my staff card would be valid seeing as I was no longer a regular employee.

After limping home, I made myself a grilled cheese and tomato sandwich and heated some canned soup before doing some dusting and laundry. I read for a while and finished knitting a hat. I also went over all my bills and banking details, making sure everything had been covered during my absence. It was fortunate that I had set up an electronic pre-payment system to cover my rent and utilities when I first moved in, otherwise I might well have been evicted after so many weeks away. Getting Safeway to reconsider about my job was one thing; I don't think even Edward could have calculated and covered my expenses for all the time I had been in hospital and then at the clinic. When I had turned eighteen, I had gotten a small lump sum left over from my dad's pension fund. More recently, the COPS scholarship helped keep me afloat. My cashier's job meant I could clothe myself and eat fresh vegetables and meat rather than box mac n' cheese and two-minute noodles. I didn't live high on the hog, but I got by well enough.

Time passed slowly. I hadn't realized how busy they kept us at the clinic until I had to entertain myself for a whole day. After another meal for one, I washed my few dishes and decided to take a long soak in the bath. As I sank under the foamy bubbles, I sighed in delight. I had forgotten the blissful warmth and sense of relaxation luxuriating in a simple tub of hot water could bring, feeling all the knots and tension of my day melt away. I sat reading, topping up the hot water periodically until the dismally small reserve tank ran out. When the water had cooled too much to be comfortable, I got out and wrapped myself in an over-sized bath towel. My skin was pink and glowing, and my hands and feet were pleasantly pruny. I brushed my teeth and put on some comfy pajamas, looking forward to sleeping in my own bed at last.

Making my way the few feet to my bedroom, I pulled down the covers and got in. I snuggled down, drawing the comforter up to my chin, trying to find that quiet space in my head that would allow me to drift off to sleep.

It was a long time coming.

I had not drawn the curtain over my high little strip of window, allowing the orange glow of the outside streetlights to soften the darkness in my room. I tossed and turned, trying in vain to switch off my inner stream of thought. The sense of dislocation I had felt when I first stepped into my apartment returned with a vengeance.

This bed did not feel welcoming or cozy like my own familiar nest of blankets should. This place did not feel like mine, like a real home should. I may as well be have been staying in some nondescript and mediocre hotel room for all the comfort and familiarity this place gave me. A nub of unease pricked me, as if I were missing something else. Frowning in the semi-darkness, I examined this odd feeling. I wasn't scared as such; the feeling was different from fear. No, it was something else.

I was_ lonely_.

At the clinic, I almost always had people around me and I had gotten used to the company. Even Jacob Black's not-so-subtle flirtations had been a distraction of sorts. I had actually made friends and allowed people to get close to me.

_And I want some people to get even closer, _my inner voice teased.

I had learned to enjoy companionship−found myself craving it even.

I should be used to the empty feeling that accompanied loneliness; after all, I had spent years living by myself. Things were different now, though. _I _was different, irrevocably altered by my recent experiences.

I reached over and turned on my bed side lamp. Swinging my legs out of bed, I went to the small bag I had brought from the clinic and found my notebook. I flicked through the pages until I found my list.

_Make a place for myself, a proper home, _I added to my growing list of things to do. I thought for a moment before adding another point.

_Continue making friends and find a way to keep in touch with those I have already made._

Feeling like this small resolution had alleviated some unknown pressure inside me, I climbed back into bed and drifted easily off to sleep.

I stirred some unknown time later, disorientated by the unfamiliar surroundings. I was slightly sweaty and tangled up in the bed clothes, my pajama pants knotted around my legs and the shirt kinked up over my waist. I lay quietly, trying to remember if it was a dream or something else that had disturbed me.

It was the change in the light that alerted me to the source of my disrupted sleep, and I could feel the corresponding instantaneous spike in my heart rate with the realization.

_Something is blocking the light in the window! _

I yanked the blankets up over my head and turned over, facing away from the window. I tried to calm myself as my pulse raced, the sound of pounding blood roaring in my ears. I was trembling and panting with fear.

_The window can't be opened, right?_

I couldn't remember, and therefore couldn't be sure.

_Could it be a cat, sitting on a nearby roof, blocking the light? _

_Damned big cat, to reduce the light by half_, I thought, answering my own question. The hair on the back of my neck prickled as the feeling of being watched intensified, and my panic increased correspondingly. I tried to pull myself together and think rationally.

_Am I going to just lie here like a sitting duck, AGAIN? Let some monster come and get me, without a single effort to resist? _

These thoughts were all the bolstering I needed, and I shot up out of bed and ran down the short hallway toward the kitchen. The phone was on the wall between the kitchen and the bathroom doorway, the invisible half way mark in the small space. Thankfully, there were no windows there so the watcher could not see what I was doing. I hastily punched the number I had memorized weeks ago and waited for an answer.

"Hello?"

A trickle of relief flowed through me at the sound of his voice.

"Edward? I need you, _now!_"


	22. Chapter 21

**Thanks to my beta-ing team of Raggstone and ShowtunesJesus. Sorry my comma's were out of control. **

**Well, lovely readers, here is a bonus chapter for reaching the amazing milestone of 500+ reviews! Plus, I hated leaving you all hanging after the cliffie last week. **

**I love how passionate you all are about Bella's safety. Plenty of you were mad at me for 'making' her go home seemingly unprotected. Remember that Edward & Jasper know next to nothing about the stalker, aside from the attacks. We only know he has been watching her because of the Prologue.**

**Special hello's to Wandaristsa, who popped her reviewing cherry with this story, and to giraffelashes for all the lovely chats :)**

**SMeyer wrote the Twilight saga. Without her, I would have never have known what a lemon was or how tasty they can be (lol!).**

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**Chapter 21**

_**Edward**_

It had been a long day. A body had been found floating off Port Jackson earlier that morning. All available teams had been pulled off normal duties to help manage and search the site and surroundings. Along with another team, Jasper and I had been assigned traffic containment. It had proven to be a mammoth task, considering the multitude of news teams that appeared before the first police unit even arrived.

It was a harrowing scene. A teenage girl had disappeared some weeks ago. Her frantic parents must have had access to a police scanner, as they had been attending every report of deceased female individuals since. Most parents held onto the idea with obsessive fervor that their wayward child would return, but this couple seemed to think her uncharacteristic and prolonged absence meant that she was no longer alive. Although I felt a sad pang for their lack of faith, I had to agree with their realism.

It was always difficult to screen a body from curious eyes, even when found on land. This task proved almost impossible in water. The body was discovered close enough to shore for the parents to watch with binoculars as the crew proceeded methodically through every step of the recovery. The body was partially clothed, enough for the mother to start screaming in recognition as the two police divers gently placed the bloated form in the bottom of the waiting boat.

We had worked late and were almost home when my phone buzzed. The low sound of Bella's whispered plea erased all signs of fatigue, and I felt the adrenaline surging.

"Stay on the line, Bella. We're on our way." I looked to Jasper for confirmation. He immediately began scanning the road for a safe place to turn back toward the city.

"I'm putting you on speaker phone so Jasper can hear. Is that okay?" I tried to keep calm as I pictured her cowering somewhere in her apartment. I had known she was going home but never expected the perp would pursue her so soon. We had arranged for a drive-by patrol to cover the front of her building and the service alley at the back, but in truth it was not much of a deterrent for a practiced stalker. He must have been watching her building to have found out about her return so quickly.

"Okay. How long until you get here?"

Jasper spoke, raising his voice so Bella could hear. "Fifteen minutes, Bella. Do you want us to send another unit quicker?"

"I don't know," she whimpered.

"What happened?" I asked, my imagination ready with too many scenarios for comfort.

"I can't sleep in the dark anymore," she whispered into the phone. "I left the blinds in my room open so I could see the light from outside. Something woke me up, and I noticed the light was blocked. I think someone was watching me through the window."

Suddenly, I could hear a muffled noise in the background, and Bella shrieked. She must have dropped the phone, as I was almost deafened by a loud noise directly in my ear as her phone disconnected.

"Bella!" I yelled, "Bella!" knowing all the time that it was a wasted effort. The line was dead.

Jasper immediately scrabbled at his belt for his phone, urgently calling the precinct nearest her home to send a unit out. I madly hit the buttons on my mobile to try to call her back, but each time, the line was engaged.

"Fuck!" I cursed, feeling the dread take over.

"Better leave the line open, Edward. She's probably trying to call you back."

I stopped torturing my phone, grateful for Jasper's common sense while mine seemed to have fled.

"You won't be of any use to her when we get there unless you get it together, man," he urged quietly. "Help is on its way, and we're almost there."

Jasper's easy logic was the voice of reason I needed. I tried to calm my racing thoughts as my legs bounced with impatience.

_Three times now, like some melodramatic soap opera. How many more chances would we get to come to her rescue? Would help arrive in time for her again? _

_One day we would be too late, and the monster stalking her will have won._

As we turned into her street, I could see the flashing red and blue of a squad car's lights illuminating the night. As Jasper parked our car directly behind it, I threw my door open, my feet hitting the sidewalk before Jasper had even turned off the engine. The ancient superintendent was holding the external door open. He looked distressed and raised his querulous voice the minute I got within hearing range, insisting he had changed her locks as we had instructed during our last visit. I passed him without a word, my only thoughts of finding Bella. Her apartment door was also open, spilling light into the dim passageway.

As I entered the small living area, I spied a female officer crouching on her haunches in the hall closest to the kitchen area. She looked up at my arrival, and quickly taking in my uniform, she turned her attention back to the hunched form in front of her. Bella sat on the floor with her arms wrapped around her knees, her head resting on top of her linked forearms. Her messy hair covered everything, obscuring her face.

_She's here and still in one piece. _

I sighed in relief.

"Bella?" I softly called, needing to see her face before I could process anything more.

Her head jerked up, and the rest of her followed quickly as she launched herself at my chest. I wrapped my arms around her, allowing some of the tension to dissipate with the feel of her whole and alive in my embrace. She pressed herself against me, and I let my head drop to hers. I buried my nose in her hair, inhaling the pure sweet scent of Bella. She smelled like warmth and woman; there was no hint of overdone fruity soap or perfume scent for my Bella.

"We have to stop meeting like this. People will think we aren't doing a proper job of looking out for you," I murmured into her hair in a misguided attempt at levity.

She shivered slightly at my words. Seeming to realize that we had an audience, she pulled away, crossing her arms self-consciously over her chest.

"I'm sorry. I should have called nine-one-one, but all I could think of was that I needed you…"

I felt a small smug sense of satisfaction that my name was the first that came to mind. Just then, Jasper and another officer entered the apartment. We all introduced ourselves to each other. Sharing details of our rank, precinct, and previous association with Bella helped establish our prior involvement and sorting out the inevitable pecking order that came when more than one unit attended a scene.

The male officer, Liam, reported that he had found signs that someone had indeed been near her bedroom window. There were faint shoe impressions on the aluminum flashing where the roof of an abutting building's garage met with the external wall of Bella's bedroom. Liam was certain that someone had been perching there often, as the paint on the flashing was worn away in that one area. He had also found signs of damage to the sill of the living room window, where it seemed someone had tried to jimmy the latch.

Bella explained that's what had happened while she was still on the line to us. She had heard someone rattle the living room window frame and in her fright, she had dropped the phone. I took off my hat, raking my hand through my hair.

_Close. He had been so close to getting to her. Too close for comfort._

Taking her hand, I led her over to the sofa before sitting next to her. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed by a burning need to catch this fucker and beat out my own fear and frustration on his cowardly hide. I just needed a starting point for the chase, like getting a bloodhound to sniff the belongings of its quarry.

"Bella, we've tried to give you time and some space to see if your memory came back. I think we're running out of options now. When we saw you last, you said you could remember almost everything except the week of your attack. Is that right?" I asked, my voice firm but calm. I kept my eyes fixed on hers, hoping to give her some reassurance and sense of grounding so she could think and respond clearly.

"That's right," she murmured as she clutched my hand.

"Have you remembered anything more?"

She shook her head, all the while staring into my eyes like a deer caught in headlights.

"Do you have any idea who it could be? Can you remember anyone talking to you, maybe paying you more attention than usual? It could have been at school or at work. Maybe a customer or another student, or even a fellow employee?"

She frowned and looked away. I hated the loss of contact as I couldn't read her reactions as easily without looking in her eyes for clues.

"I told you before, I didn't speak to anyone unless I had to. I was by myself all the time. Everyone at school left me alone. Even when I was at work, most people just ignored me. Us check-out chicks are not like waiters. People don't have to tip us or be nice to get better service."

"What about a boyfriend?"

Her eyes briefly skittered to my face before fixing on a spot on the wall.

"No. I had no one." Her voice was flat, as if the admission pained her.

I thought back to what Eleazar had told us about the perp.

"What about…" I was lost for words. I knew I had to ask, but how to ask _this girl_ was making me tongue-tied.

"What about hook-ups? You know, maybe someone you met casually and were only with once." I knew that the lack of a steady partner did not mean the absence of regular sex for many. I swallowed hard, a little worried about her answer either way.

Her eyes flew back to me, and her mouth pursed into a grim line. She pulled her fingers from mine before tucking her hands under her armpits, almost as if she were holding herself together. I felt a deep stabbing pain in my chest.

"I _told _you, there was no one. No one noticed me. I was invisible. For a long time, nobody wanted me, and in the end, I made sure they didn't. Especially for _that. _Being lonely is one thing−I would never buy someone's attention that way."

I didn't know whether to feel better or worse for her, and I felt an instinctive need to comfort her. Almost as if she sensed my need, she pulled away, standing and pacing in the small space of her living area.

I was unsure how to proceed next, since plainly I had upset her more. I looked to Jasper, who was standing next to Liam near the front door. Although they had been talking quietly, he had clearly been taking note of our conversation and gave me a barely perceptible nod for taking the lead and asking the questions we needed addressed. Finishing his hushed aside with Liam, Jasper focused his full attention on Bella.

"That settles things then," declared Jasper, the note of finality clear in his voice. "I'm sorry, Bella, but you can't stay here anymore. We can't risk it again. Whoever this stalker is, he knows where to find you. It looks like he has watched you here more than once. This latest episode shows us that we can't keep you safe here either."

He turned back to Liam, and they began to discuss taking pictures of what had been observed on the roof to add to the report. As first unit on the scene, Liam and his partner Siobhan would record, process, and document the attempted break-in. They would email us a full copy of everything, so we could add it to Bella's file. Siobhan went out to the hall to take a statement from the super, who had been hovering outside.

Bella just stood in the middle of the room, staring into space. I stood likewise, my eyes fixed on her. Expressions flittered across her face, plain enough for a keen observer to see. Initially there was fear, but it was soon replaced by a look of weary resignation. Then, she looked thoughtful as if she were considering something. Lastly, her expressive brown eyes clouded, and I could see a new emotion brewing there. Fury. Bella was incensed about something. The anger took over her whole body. Her spine stiffened, and her head came up in an almost defiant angle. Her brows pulled into a frown as her eyes below flashed. Her lips pulled into a thin, straight line.

"Okay, then," she snapped to no one in particular. "I'll go and get my stuff."

I watched her retreating form as she stalked off toward her room. She was magnificent in her anger, all swinging chestnut hair, swaying hips, and flashing Elmos.

I was amused by her choice of nightwear. The pajama pants were black flannel with miniature scarlet Elmos dotted everywhere. The top was a red cotton long-sleeved tee, with a single Elmo dressed like a chicken on the chest. As I made out the chicken Elmo, all sane thought disappeared.

_She isn't wearing a bra_.

I mentally smacked myself over the back of the head.

_What is wrong with me? We are at work, here! This poor girl has suffered another attack. Yet, instead of thinking about what to do, here I am, ogling her bouncing, pert breasts…mmm…bouncy…_

_This woman is going to be the death of me._

Trying to wrestle my errant thoughts back to the here and now, I turned my attention to Jasper. Finishing his conversation with Liam, he turned back to me.

"We'll go as soon as Bella is ready."

"Where are we going to take her?" I asked, curious.

"Home," he replied, looking at me as if to gauge my reaction.

"Home?" I parroted back, confused. "Whose home?"

"Ours, dummy," he stated slowly, as if instructing a small child. "She needs to be somewhere safe, somewhere where we can keep an eye on her. Our place is perfect. No one would ever think to look there, and you know Esme won't mind." He smiled his familiar, wry smile. "Besides, Alice would kill me if I left her to her own devices after this. After all the time they spent together at the clinic, they've sort of become friends."

"What about…what will people…is this a good idea?" I sputtered, my head spinning with the thought of Bella−at my home−every day.

"Edward, you know she has no one else. Trust me. This is the best solution to everyone's problems." He stared at me in a calculating way, and I could see the amusement in his eyes at my obvious apprehension.

Bella returned carrying an overnight bag. She had put her leg brace on over the top of her pajama pants, and was now wearing a black hoodie zipped up to her chin. I took the bag from her as we walked into the hallway after Jasper said our goodbyes to Liam. I opened the front passenger door for her before climbing in the backseat. Bella had not uttered a single word since gathering her things, even after Jasper explained his plans. This made for an awkward ride home, to say the least.

As we drove, my mind was occupied by two thoughts.

The first had to do with Bella's stalker. We would have to step up our measures to protect her from her persistent follower and apprehend him.

The second had to do with Bella herself.

How was I going to resist her when she would be so close, within touching distance…_all the time? _

Did I want to resist her?

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**If you haven't checked it out already, I wrote a one-shot for The Love Actually Contest, featuring a certain character who features heavily in this story. Go read it and vote at www[dot]fanfiction[dot]net[forward slash]u[forward slash]2805718[forward slash]**

**I know a lot of you wanted them to take Bella home when she was still in the hospital. I had already written this far way back** **then. Are you excited? Tell me how much!**


	23. Chapter 22

**Thanks to the comma queens, ShowtunesJesus and Ragsstone, my very patient beta's.**

**Thanks to Bower_of_Bliss for confirming my thoughts and for still taking care of me. I heart you big time, baby ;)**

**Sorry readers, bonus feature over for now. It's back to weekly updates again. If you need something to tide you over, go find my one-shot in The Love Actually Contest (link in last chapter's A/N). Please vote too!**

**If any Inuits are reading this story, I mean no offense.**

**SMeyer created the twilight playground. I just picnic there.**

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**Chapter 22**

_**Edward**_

Home at long last, we let ourselves in the back door. Jasper whispered a hasty goodnight and disappeared, leaving me alone and floundering with our new houseguest. Turning on a few lights as we went, I led Bella to the downstairs guest room. I put her bag on the bed and turned on the light in the en-suite bathroom. Promising to return, I excused myself and made my way to the powder room off the main hallway to change into the sweatpants and t-shirt I carried as a stand-by in my work bag. I went to the kitchen and made two mugs of hot chocolate, taking one into Bella's room for her.

It was almost three in the morning. Thankfully, I had the following two days off. It would take me a while to wind down from the evening's events. I could only imagine the turmoil of Bella's thoughts and feelings after her aborted first trip home.

I padded quietly back to the guest room. Bella sat rigid and upright, propped up against the pillows. Every light in the room was on and blazing. Her bag and leg brace had been dumped unceremoniously on the floor on the far side of the bed, the hoodie thrown carelessly on top. As I handed her a steaming mug, Bella sighed loudly before speaking.

"I'm sorry about my bad mood, Edward. You save me and my job and then take me into your home, and here I am, acting like a sulky princess. I'm not mad at you and Jasper−honest. I know you two only have my best interests at heart."

She pointed to the loveseat by the window. I dragged it over toward the side of the bed and sat facing her, so I could see her as she spoke. I watched as she considered how to continue. As she weighed her words, she blew across the top of the steaming mug before tentatively taking a sip.

"I'm mad at the bastard who keeps trying to finish me off, mostly. I'm also mad at myself. I keep thinking that if I hadn't been so weak, I would never have been a target in the first place."

I quickly interrupted, hating to see her blame herself this way.

"It's not your fault, Bella. Who knows why this sicko does the things he does? You probably did nothing."

"I'm not so sure. Would you mind turning down the lights? I want to tell you a bit about my life...before. I think it will be easier to unload it all if I can't see your reaction. If I can just talk and get it off my chest, you know?"

I suppressed a brief flash of bemusement at the inner workings of the female mind. I got up and turned the overhead and bathroom lights off, leaving only a single light on the far nightstand to provide a dim glow. If it made it easier for her to share, who was I to question how lighting affected her ability to talk? Her face was now mostly in shadow, although I could still make out her profile easily.

"From what I can remember of it, my life was pretty good before my dad died. My parents were high school sweethearts, though dad was a couple of years older. My mom fell pregnant just before she graduated, so they got married just before Dad went off to the police academy. Mom said it was all Dad wanted−to be a cop. He had to work long hours and was away a lot, but Mom said those years were the happiest of their lives."

I watched as her lips pulled up into a small but sad smile.

"Then one day, Dad came across one of the local ladies pulled over on the side of the road with a flat tire. It was raining hard." She snorted then. "It always rained in Forks. He stopped and made her sit in the car as he changed her tire. He had apparently put out lots of those reflective hazard lights and parked his cruiser to give him some protection from traffic, but the rain made it hard to see anything. He was just putting away the woman's car jack when another car came down the road. The elderly driver didn't see the cars parked on the side of the road until it was too late. He tried to swerve away, but he hit the police car, crushing my dad between the cruiser and the woman's car." She stopped for a minute, wiping a few stray tears away.

"It seemed like there were always people in the house after that. My mother was almost catatonic with grief, and I hardly saw her. I kept asking when my daddy was coming home from work. They would just look at me and tell me to go play with something. After a while, Mom stopped hiding away in her room, but she was always sad and crying. She was just…lost without my Dad. After a few months, she grew restless. She kept telling everyone she couldn't stay in a place with so many memories. So one day, she packed the car, and we left. Just like that. I don't know who took care of everything with the house, but we never went back.

"I think the problem was that Mom had never been on her own before−had never had to manage anything. Dad had always taken care of everything−money, bills, putting gas in the car. Mom just let him. It's like she knew there would always be someone looking out for her, taking care of her. Thank God we had a steady income from Dad's police pension, or I'm sure we would have starved. The car would run out of gas−always on some God-forsaken road in the middle of nowhere−because she forgot to fill it up. There would be no food in the house because Mom didn't keep track of when we needed to go shopping. The electricity or phone would be cut off because she hadn't remembered to pay the bill on time." She paused and took another sip of her drink before continuing with her story.

"As I got older, I learned it was easier if I did things myself. That way, I would be fed regularly and have clean clothes for school. By the time I was ten, I could shop, cook, do laundry, and clean enough to get by. I would remind Mom when things needed to be done. I would update the calendar on our wall so she couldn't forget things. _Mommy's little helper,_ she called me. I thought her forgetfulness was just because she was sad my dad was gone, but it was more than that, really.

"We moved around a lot. I think the longest time we stayed anywhere was a year." She laughed, a sound that was in no way happy. "I think I went to school in almost every state in the country. I was the eternal new kid, always stared at, ostracized, and first to be picked on. I got picked on for a lot of things: being new, being quiet, my name, the way I looked…I had an odd mother, too−yet another reason for the other kids to shun me. I learned to keep my head down and my mouth shut. This helped me avoid notice of any sort, and the other kids would soon forget me and leave me alone. That's when I started to become invisible. The more I did it, the better I got at it. Moving around so much, I never had the chance to get involved in things in school, or outside activities like sports. I never went to a single football game or dance. No prom for me either. I threw all my efforts into my school work and reading. Reading became my escape, and I felt the need to escape…a lot."

I could almost picture a younger sad little Bella in my mind's eye, dejected and downcast.

"My mom would go through these phases. She would go from sad and withdrawn to energetic and bubbly. She would be off learning pottery, or yoga, or basket weaving. She always seemed to have some hare-brained scheme for 'finding her hidden talent.' If it wasn't creative classes, she would try new jobs. I don't know how she did it, considering she had no qualifications other than her high school diploma. If Mom decided a job was right for her, she would go all out. She would put on the charm and a bright new outfit, and before you knew it, she would be working again. I used to joke that she could sell ice to eskimos.

"She needed to work during these phases, too, because she would always be spending money. New clothes, jewelry, outings, and trips all over the place−you name it, she would buy it. It would take months to pay off her splurges, if she paid them off at all. Sometimes, she would make us skip town in the middle of the night to avoid paying up. After doing that, often Mom would insist we use fake names, too."

Her faraway look was quickly replaced by sadness again.

"Just like schools for me, though, none of her jobs would last very long. And then there were the men." She looked down into her empty cup, as if she were seeking answers.

"Mom was still really young when my dad died; she was only twenty-five. About a year after he was gone, she started 'dating' again. At least, that's what she called it. One morning after I woke up, I was in the kitchen eating my Cheerios when some guy came wandering out in just his shorts. I don't know who was more shocked, him or me. He obviously didn't know she had a kid. She had waited until I was asleep before creeping out to some bar and getting trashed."

I should have been appalled, but in my line of work, I often saw much poorer parenting than that.

"She would often tell me after that when she was off 'to have some fun,' or would tell me to make myself scarce so she could flirt with some guy. It was the ones who did know about me that were the worst. They were always trying to suck up to me−to pretend to like me to keep in Mom's good favor and in her bed. Or, worse yet, some wanted to be 'friends'− _good_ friends."

I could see her swallow some emotion, and when she continued, her voice was almost a whisper.

"Then, when I was about thirteen, I started to change…you know, in the ways girls do. Creepy Walter was Mom's current… whatever…at the time. He kept 'accidently' walking in on me in the bathroom, or he would get 'lost' on his way back from the bathroom at night. Nothing more happened besides leering, but I was scared all the same. I tried dressing differently. I wore baggy, boring clothes, but it didn't make much difference. So after school, I went to the hardware store and asked the attendant to show me how to install a lock on my bedroom door. I was quite proud of my neat handiwork,considering I did it all by myself after I got home that day. I would shut myself in my room whenever he was there. One day my mom got sick of it and stood at the door screaming about how inconsiderate my moody teenage behavior was. So I yelled right back at her, hollering about how desperate she looked sucking up to her sleazy pedophile boyfriend. She tried to open my door. She hadn't even realized I had put the lock on there." Bella put her empty mug on the nightstand with a small clunk and twisted her fingers together in her lap.

"That was the last I saw of Walter. The next day, she told me that if the rental agency deducted anything off our security deposit when we moved out because I 'altered' the door, it would be coming out of my allowance. It was the only apology I got. She was much more careful about the boyfriends after that, but the damage was done. Even at home, I retreated into my own little world in my room, losing myself in any alternate reality I could find in a good book."

I felt an almost uncontrollable need to comfort her, and to show her that not all men felt that way about young girls. I didn't know how to approach her. After what she had just revealed, I didn't want to scare her off. I tentatively reached out my hand until it found hers. I gently stroked the outside of her knotted fingers, causing her to startle momentarily. She turned her head, looking down at our hands before unwinding them and firmly grasping mine. I felt something within me ease with the contact and I lifted my bare feet, resting them up on the bed by her leg. My foot barely touched her covered leg, but even this tiny amount of contact seemed to soothe her somewhat. When she started talking again, her voice was louder, stronger, as if our contact gave her added strength.

"My mom would often sink into a funk, especially after breaking up with her boyfriend at the time. She would lie in bed staring into space or would sleep all day. She would quit her latest job, but more often than not, she would get fired for not going in for days. Sometimes she would drink a lot. She would hardly speak either. I would have to take care of her and remind her to eat or take a shower. These periods lasted longer and longer as time went on. As I got older, she would start to disappear during these funks, too. To start with, it would just be for a few hours. Once I hit about sixteen, she would sometimes be gone a couple of days. I was so frantic the first time, I even ended up calling the police, but they couldn't really do anything since she was an adult and had now had a history of taking off. She always came back, though. When I got upset and told her how worried she made me, she would just shrug and say she had needed some time 'to sort her head out.' That's when I started to think that there could be something more to her odd moods.

"I turned to my best friend for help; I consulted a book. I went to the library and searched until I found some sort of logical explanation for her erratic behavior. As I read, I found more and more information. Finally I confronted her and begged her to see a doctor. She made an appointment, all the time telling me I was worrying about nothing. Its turned out I was right to be worried. She was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. She was put on medication and for a while, everything was stable. By this time, I was almost about to start my final year of high school.

"Then Mom started complaining about her medication, saying it made her feel flat, as if her moods had no up or down at all. She said it took away all her creativity, and she didn't like the physical side-effects either. She wanted to move again, and try some alternative therapies. I threw a complete hissy fit, and for once in my life I dug in my heels. I refused to move, telling her I wanted to spend my last year of school in the same place for a change. I was about to turn eighteen, so she made me a deal. If I didn't tell anyone that I was on my own, she would transfer Dad's pension money to my bank account. I would send her an allowance to get by on. That way, I could stay in the house, and she could go off on her little 'journey.' It seemed like we would both get what we wanted. I had been forging her signature for years, so I signed my own school notices and such. No one knew or suspected that I lived alone. Mom kept in touch−not often, but enough for me to know she was okay. She would send me a postcard when she remembered and sometimes called. I would occasionally have to wire her extra cash, but we both managed just fine." Bella moved then, wriggling down the pile of pillows further in an attempt to get comfortable.

"I was expecting her home for graduation. She had called to tell me when she was due in. That day, a strange car pulled up in front of the house. I started to get annoyed, thinking she was going to bring some new toy boy to my ceremony. As soon as the men got out, I knew who they were. They were policemen. They came to tell me that my stupid mother had gone off to some freaky spiritualists retreat to 'cure' her of her mental illness. The people there dosed her with some weird herbal stuff, not realizing she was still taking her prescribed medication. She was supposed to go through some purification ritual, so she had been fasting and hadn't had any water to drink for a while. A group of 'seekers,' as they called themselves, and my mom crammed together into a tiny sweat lodge for the ritual. They thought she was in a trance, finding herself. The medical examiner said she died of a combination of drug and substance toxicity, accelerated by dehydration and hyperthermia. Only my silly mother could die in such a random way…"

Bella was quiet for a long time after that. I didn't know if I should speak and console her. She hadn't seemed to require any verbal input from me before, so I figured what she really needed was someone to hear her. So I sat there, holding her hand, waiting for whatever would follow next.

"So I was all alone. I went to college, and I continued to keep to myself." She exhaled loudly.

"That's a bit of an understatement, really. I hid from everything−from life in general. I grew even more adept at evading notice, deflecting all attempts other students made to be friendly. Eventually, they gave up. I tried to blend in and found if you didn't make eye contact, it was even easier for people to ignore you. All I did was school or work. I don't even know why I believed it was necessary to act that way. It seemed to make sense at the time." She paused again, and I could see her mouth tighten with anger or discomfort−I couldn't tell which in the dim light.

"But someone did notice me. I don't know how, when, or why, but something made this monster pick me as his target. Maybe he knew I was alone, that no one would miss me if I were gone."

Her eyes met mine. In the semi-darkness, I could only see one shadowy side of her face. By the determined set of her jaw, I could tell that she had made some sort of resolution.

"After everything that has happened over the last few weeks, I've come to the conclusion that I want to live a proper life. I want to embrace all of the opportunities that come my way. I don't want to live in fear, and I don't want to be a target anymore. I've had enough of being a victim−I need to be a survivor. I have to learn to be strong−to fight rather than hide. I just don't know how yet, or where to start."

I squeezed her hand.

"You start by trying, Bella. You've already come so far in such a short time. Remember what Rose said? This is your second chance. But this time you have something else to help you get through−you have us. We'll help in any way we can."

I tried to hold her gaze in the dim light, but she ducked her head. When she looked up again, I could see a glimmer of unshed tears trembling on her lashes. I tried to convey my sincerity, my belief in her worth. I wanted to tell her then just how much she had come to mean to me.

"Can I ask you something, Edward?"

"Anything," I replied breathlessly.

"Will you hold me for a while? Um...only if you want to…I just need to feel close to someone right now," she explained apologetically.

I clambered up on the bed over the top of the covers as she scooted over and turned on her side to face me.

_I thought she'd never ask! _I mused silently to myself.

"Your wish is my command," I murmured, folding her into my embrace. Surely, her asking–no, _needing_ some sort of physical connection had to mean something, didn't it?

She snuggled into my chest as her arms snaked around my waist. It was almost like the first time I had hugged her. She seemed to fit perfectly into the space there, as if it was made to accommodate her exact dimensions.

Encompassed by the pleasant warmth of her arms, the weight of her body almost flush with mine, I felt like I must already be dreaming. Surrounded by the enticing scent of Bella, without quite meaning to, I was nonetheless lulled quickly into a peaceful sleep.


	24. Chapter 23

**Thanks to my lovely beta team of ShowtunesJesus and Ragsstone, who both take the time not just to edit and teach, but to also encourage. **

**Thanks also to my lovely friend Sacred Datura for services rendered ;) She held my hand as I got over a very important hurdle.**

**Lol, last week my inbox was full of cyber-squeeing after Edward and Bella's impromptu snuggle. I can't wait for your reviews when the citrus finally arrives!**

**SMeyer wrote four whole books without a single graphic lemon. I wonder if she would have had as many readers if she posted such a series here, lol!**

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**Chapter 23**

_**Bella**_

I was having the most amazing dream. I was warm and safe, and something else…

"Psst!"

I snuggled in closer to the heavenly source of heat and comfort behind me, feeling blissfully content.

"Psst!"

This time, the annoying sound was closer and louder, coupled with a poke to my forehead.

"Wha..?" I squinted against the filtered daylight, taking in the two enormous gray eyes and spiky black bed hair in front of me.

"Alice?" I queried, raising my head to see her crouched on the floor next to the bed.

She held her index finger up to her lips, demanding my silence, before standing up in one graceful action. She moved to the doorway before crooking her finger to indicate I should follow her.

I silently slipped out of bed and turned to pull up the comforter, only to be taken aback by the sight before me. Edward lay curled on top of the covers. He was even more glorious asleep than awake, his face peaceful and smooth. I could almost see how adorable he would have been as a small child, all boyish wonder and enthusiasm. I stood staring at him in stunned amazement until Alice came back in and gently yanked my arm. I followed her, hobbling to the door before gently shutting it behind me. My leg was still a bit stiff in the mornings, and would only move freely after loosening up with movement.

She led me into a huge kitchen, pointing to a stool tucked underneath the breakfast bar. _This is certainly something different_, I thought with amusement. Alice was always a picture of perfect and professional chic when dressed for work. She looked totally different now. She was wearing a knee length purple t-shirt style night dress with a crazy-looking animal on the front. The caption underneath the picture read "moody cow." To complete her ensemble, she wore stripy knee-high toe socks. Socks I had knitted, to be exact. I stifled a laugh as she flittered around the kitchen, throwing together breakfast as she started the coffee percolating. I looked at the clock on the commercial-sized twin oven's LED display. It was just past nine in the morning.

"So, you're sleeping with my brother, are you? When did this happen?" she demanded, her stern tone ruined by the wide grin splitting her face.

I almost fell off my chair.

"It wasn't like that, Alice. Honest! We just got to talking, and I got upset, and he was helping me, and…" I stammered.

"Whoa, there! It's okay, really, Bella. Jasper told me what happened last night when he got home." She raked an assessing look over me. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I am. I just got a huge fright, that's all. Whoever it was sure is determined. But I've decided I'm not going to let him get to me. If he thinks he can scare me into submission, he's got another thing coming." I sounded braver than I felt.

"Atta girl, Bella. So, what's your plan?" Alice asked as she started mixing batter.

"I'm going to fight back. Next time he comes for me, he is not going to find me cowering on the floor again," I asserted, conviction running strong through me.

"Excellent! I know someone who can help you with that." She pushed a glass bowl full of assorted fruit toward me and pointed to a cutting board and knife over to the side on the bench top. I started cutting up fruit.

"Hmmm, I smell coffee," said a new voice, and I turned to take in the elegant woman breezing in. She was wearing a lavender, floor-length silk nightgown and matching wrap, showing off her slender and shapely form. She had beautiful shoulder length hair the color of dark honey, all rich brown and gold. She floated over to Alice, who was now at the stove, before kissing her cheek. She turned her attention to me.

"Good morning. I'm Esme, Alice's mother. And you are...?"

"Oh, I'm Bella." I was a little lost from this point. How, exactly, was I to explain how I had met various members of her family? I tried to focus on the very important job of fruit slicing.

Alice stepped in then and, in usual Alice fashion, babbled out an explanation.

"Jasper brought her home from work last night, but she slept with Edward."

"Alice!" I protested. "That's _not _what happened. Well, actually, it is, but…"

Unperturbed, Esme laughed.

"It was nice of Jasper to share, since he already has someone warming his bed." She chuckled, bumping her curvy hip against Alice's slim one.

"Who's sharing? And who's warming whose bed?" asked a familiar voice. Rose wandered in wearing form-fitting knee length black exercise pants and a tight pink tank. Her long blond hair was pulled into a ponytail and loose curls bounced down her back. She looked statuesque and sylph-like. Having only ever seen her in a collection of baggy and splattered coveralls, her hair disguised, I was taken aback by her altered appearance.

With a distracted "Hello," Rose took a seat on the stool next to me.

"Well, last night, someone tried to break into Bella's apartment. Jasper decided that she needed somewhere safe to stay−somewhere nobody would expect her to go. So Jasper and Edward brought her here to stay for a while. She and Edward apparently had a deep and meaningful conversation last night and were asleep like two peas in a pod in the guestroom bed."

I sat with my mouth agape at Alice's run down, mortified that his family might get the wrong idea.

"Wow," deadpanned Rose. "You look pretty good for having gone through all of that, Bella. You survived a stalker and sleeping with my adorkable brother-in-law in one night. You're tougher than I thought."

"Edward is not adorkable, Rose," scolded Esme. "Well, maybe just a little," she conceded. "I know he is very…intense and uptight at times. He just needs someone who understands him," she said, flicking a quick look in my direction before helping Alice plate up the pancakes she was producing at a surprising speed.

"So tell me about this stalker, dear. I don't know anyone who has had one before. The movies make it all look very thrilling. I bet in real life, it's terrifying. Is that how you met my boys?" Esme sat next to me, passing bowls of fruit salad along to Alice and Rose. Lined up along the breakfast bar, they all listened raptly as they ate, while I related the story of my initial attack and what had come after. As I spoke, I realized that this was probably a revelation for Rose and Alice, too. They would have known the raw facts of my physical injuries but not the exact details of how they occurred.

"Oh, you poor girl! You must be very strong, to have survived all of that," lamented Esme, patting my shoulder. "The boys will catch him eventually, I'm sure."

"Bella is the promising student from the clinic that I was telling you about, Esme," put in Rose. "No names were used, of course," she added, the comment directed to Alice.

"There really is a lot more to you than meets the eye, isn't there, Bella. Rose almost never talks about her students at Glenvale, so you must be exceptional to have caught her attention," said Esme, keenly examining my face.

"I don't know about that. I do really enjoy it, though−the art class. I just lose myself in it," I replied, thinking longingly of getting into something again.

"I'll have to show you my studio here, Bella," Rose offered. "Feel free to use it anytime you want."

"You better take her up on that. It's a rare honor to be invited into Rose's hallowed studio," Alice enthused. "So, Bella, are you going to share your plan to fight back with us? We might be able to suggest who would be best to help with certain aspects."

"I don't know that I've really got a plan, as such, yet. I've just got random ideas, mostly."

I outlined my thoughts so far. Over coffee, the ladies made suggestions and offered advice. Before I knew quite what had hit me, I had a list of items to purchase and another of people to ask for training.

"Well, girls, we had better get ready. I think we need to take Bella shopping," said Esme, piling up scattered dishes. We worked together companionably, helping clean up the mess left from breakfast. Rose offered me the use of her bathroom, since her husband was out playing golf and using mine would wake Edward. Alice had explained that he and Jasper were likely to sleep late on their first day off.

I silently snuck back into the room to retrieve my bag and leg brace, taking a minute again to ogle Edward sprawled on the bed, still sleeping soundly. His t-shirt had rucked up slightly, revealing an enticing sliver of toned and taut abdomen. I also spied a dusting of auburn hair disappearing into the waist band of his sweat pants. My pulse quickened. Now I knew why they called it a "happy trail." _I'd be happy to follow along its path…_

The previous night had been a turning point for me. I had never told anyone so much about myself before. I had opened up to someone and bared my soul. Not just anyone, either; I had opened up to Edward. And it had felt…good−right, somehow.

It had been intensely emotional pouring out my life history like that but also liberating in a sense. Discussing it also helped give me some perspective and made me realize how misguided I had been, hiding from everything as I had.

Edward had been so patient while he listened to me ramble on. I had felt a sense of solace−of connection−as he sat there holding my hand in the semi-darkness.

Edward roused so many new and confusing feelings in me. He was like my own personal lighthouse in the middle of a storm−a safe place to rest and recoup. His presence gave me a sense of protection and security. There was no doubt I was attracted to him physically. However, I was starting to feel other things, too. I also had a sense of yearning−of wanting more.

Having never felt anything like that before, I had no idea what I was doing or if Edward felt anything similar for me at all. I only knew that I did not want to misread the situation and do or say something that would end up embarrassing us both.

With a mental sigh, I pulled my feasting eyes away from the tempting form on the bed and crept back out into the hallway.

Although I was still tired from the getting too few hours of sleep the previous night, I was on a bit of a high after the eventful morning I had spent so far with the Cullen women. None of them had seemed the least bit surprised to find me sitting in the kitchen in my Elmo jammies. They were all so accepting and helpful. I felt a real sense of camaraderie with them all. After showering and changing, the four of us piled into Alice's yellow Volkswagen Beetle.

"Why do we have to take the Barbie car?" grumbled Rose. "It's too…You need something with style, speed and flair, Alice. Like a Porsche. You can get them in yellow, too, you know."

"Don't diss the wheels. This is much easier to park, and I can take more than one passenger this way. Maybe one day…"

"So where are we going to go?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

"We're going to visit a specialty store in the city," explained Esme, turning in the front seat to face me. "My husband, Carlisle, and I travel overseas often for his work. Many of the countries he visits have unstable governments and are prone to violent outbreaks and riots. He takes our safety very seriously. This store carries a wide range of personal security items and other things Carlisle likes to take on our trips."

"What does your husband do?" I asked, wondering what sort of job would involve the purchase of such equipment.

"He's a plastic surgeon," stated Esme, a hint of pride in her voice.

"Oh. Like face lifts and boob jobs?"

The car filled with peals of laughter from Alice and Rose. Esme just smiled at my gaff.

"No, he's not _that_ kind of surgeon. Carlisle specializes in maxillo-facial reconstruction. He restores facial features after things like tumor removal and corrects conditions such as cleft lips and palates. These things are much more common in poor countries where mothers are malnourished. Their babies are often abandoned or grow up stigmatized and marginalized. Carlisle and his team provide free treatment and surgery, giving them a chance at a normal life."

"Wow, that's really amazing."

"Yes, it is amazing. Carlisle is pretty amazing, too, though," Esme said with a smirk.

"Gah! Don't go there, Mom," groaned Alice. Alice made eye contact with me through the rear view mirror. "You're going to have to get used to my mom and dad making goo-goo eyes at each other if you're going to be staying with us. They're all over each other!" Alice rolled her eyes.

I stared wistfully at Esme as she sat in front of me, staring into space. From the small smile and slightly glazed look in her eyes, I guessed she must have been still thinking of her husband. I wondered what it must be like to still feel so much love and passion for someone, even after the passing of many years. From the look on Esme's face, it must really be something wonderful.

Soon, we arrived at our destination and spent a fascinating hour browsing, then handling and trying out various items. I had never even contemplated the existence of half the products I saw there. Rose in particular turned out to have a hidden wealth of knowledge on how to use these things and what would be most helpful. After careful consideration, I chose a small selection of things suitable for my purposes.

We left, only stopping to do some grocery shopping for supper on the way home. Apparently, this was an important weekly event in the Cullen household. Having never been part of a large family and being so young when my dad died, I had never really experienced a proper family dinner before. I was both excited and nervous. Excited, because I would get to spend some time with people I was getting to know and like. I was nervous, too, because I would get to spend more time with Edward− time away from his work and my "situation" and time where we could just be ourselves.

I found myself thinking about wanting to get closer to Edward so I could get to know him better−_a lot better._

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***Sighs nostalgically* Remember the days when love was new and nerve-racking? **

**So the girls had a very different shopping expedition. What things do you think Bella bought? What would _you _stock up on if you thought a stalker was still after you?**


	25. Chapter 24

**Thanks to Ragsstone for beta-ing this chapter. Commiserations to ShowtunesJesus, whose laptop was stolen last week, putting her out of action for a while :(**

**Kisses for JetstreamRose who recced this story, bringing more readers and fantastic reviewers. She also writes the nicest reviews too. Thanks lovely!**

**Thanks also to Roxiesmom2009 for reccing this story on 'Random Acts of Rob'**

**My one shot "The Genie's Cousin" won second place in the public vote in The Love Actually Contest. Thank you to those of you who read all the entries and voted. It's now posted in my profile.**

**SMeyer blah, blah, blah. You know the drill by now.**

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**Chapter 24**

_**Edward**_

I woke slowly, stretching lazily as I enjoyed the creak and pop of my joints realigning. I had slept well, and my body had that pleasantly relaxed and almost boneless feeling only good and restful sleep could bring. I nestled into the soft pillow and inhaled a trace of some alluring scent that lingered on the linen. I opened my eyes slowly, distractedly noting the fact that I had fallen asleep on top of the covers. I wasn't even in my own bed. For some reason I was in the guestroom at the main house. The other side of the bed was rumpled and the covers were pushed toward the middle. My sleep-hazed brain took a moment to process these things, until finally, full awareness returned.

_Holy shit! I slept with Bella!_

My hands flew to my head in shock as the memory of last night came flooding back. I pulled at my hair, sending the mess into even wilder disarray.

She had been so distant and withdrawn on the way to my parents' house. I had started to worry that this latest incident would push her over the edge from merely fearful to some other increasingly incapacitating emotion. Instead she had opened up and revealed how much her life had changed after her father's untimely death.

I ached for Bella−for how circumstances had shaped her, stunting her in so many ways. Her resilient streak had surfaced then, and I could see her conviction and sincere desire for change. She had survived so much, and instead of letting it beat her down, she had vowed to finally take control of her own life and her own choices.

I was in awe of her.

_Was she upset when she woke up next to me unexpectedly? Did she flee, embarrassed or upset? Or worse−have _**I **_scared her? How would she feel waking up in a strange place with someone she barely knew sleeping next to her?_

Her bag was gone, and so was the leg brace she had casually discarded on the floor the previous night. Aside from the rumpled bed, the only tangible evidence she had been there at all was the black sweater lying on the carpet. I raced out the door and into the kitchen, needing to see her reaction for myself.

Jasper was sitting at the breakfast bar, immersed in the Sunday paper. I couldn't even see his face over the broadsheet held in front of him. All I could see was the very top of his riot of blond curls.

"The girls left a note on the bench. They've all gone shopping," Jasper announced without altering his position.

"But Alice hates shopping." Shaking my head at my own inanity, I voiced the question I was most fearful of asking. "What about Bella?"

"Bella, too. That's why they went, apparently. She needed to get a few things."

"Oh. Okay." Feeling relieved and somewhat placated that she hadn't fled in mortification, I started making breakfast. _Or should I say lunch,_ I corrected myself. It was now well after midday. I didn't know how long Bella and I had stayed awake having our heart-to-heart, but it must have been close to dawn when we fell asleep. I felt remarkably good, considering how few hours I had actually slept for. I stood silently musing how good it would feel to spend a whole night in bed next to Bella.

_Hmmm…might not spend a lot of time sleeping, though…_

"Hey, Edward?" Jasper interrupted my pleasant little fantasy. "I think scrambled eggs generally taste a whole lot better when they aren't cremated."

I cursed, yanking the frying pan off the heat as Jasper snickered behind his paper shield. I channeled all my attention to salvaging my breakfast.

I scowled as I banged my coffee mug and plate down on the counter before morosely pulling a chair over to sit on.

"Man, I sure love the effect that girl has on you. Your brain goes AWOL whenever it comes to her. I can't wait to see what happens when she actually starts _trying _to catch your attention!" Jasper chuckled.

After finishing up, Jasper and I decided to go for a run. An hour and a half later, I was sweaty, foot-sore, and panting, but somewhat calmer of mind. I jogged up the external stairs to my loft. Unlocking the door, I stripped off my sleeveless tee, using it to wipe away the sweat trickling down my forehead. As I made for the bathroom, I shucked off my shorts, leaving them where they dropped to the floor. I was passing the double set of curtained French doors when I heard the tinkling of water. I paused for a minute before moving closer, peering through the filmy gauze of the drapes to the pool area below.

I had a brief second to thank the gods above that I was alone and undistracted as all coherent thought left my head.

In the azure water below, a deliciously curvy and breathtaking form could be seen. Bella was swimming, slicing through the water like a sea nymph. Totally submerged, her limbs were pale alabaster and starkly contrasted with the plain black of her simple one-piece suit. Exposed thus, her legs looked even longer than usual. I watched silently, completely mesmerized by her round buttocks clenching with the frog-like motion of her powerful kick as her legs flexed up at the knees and then out. Her body arced through the water, languorously propelled by her movements.

The fair skin covering her spine was partially visible above the low-cut scoop of the back of her suit. Most of her skin was veiled by the trailing sheet of her hair, which looked almost black in color when seen as it was under the water. She surfaced, taking in a deep lungful of air before gracefully turning onto her back. Her long pale arms extended above her as she began to backstroke lengths up and down the pool.

A low groan escaped me as I feasted on the sight of her luscious breasts rolling gently with the movement of her torso, her arms rotating above her head with each stroke. I could see her nipples, which became erect on contact with the slightly cooler air above the water and were straining against the thin spandex of her bathing suit.

_That isn't the only thing straining,_ I thought, as my erection swelled further. My hand moved over my fabric-covered length, idly readjusting myself, as my attention stayed focused on the sleek form below. So clumsy and awkward on land and hampered by the brace and the stiffness of her recovering injuries, she was sinuous and agile in the water. She moved languidly, chased by bubbles and ripples of displaced water.

In one lithe movement, she once again twisted onto her stomach, as I freed myself from the confining prison of my boxer briefs. As my eyes caressed every inch of her exquisiteness, I could feel the evidence of my desire seep out of the throbbing tip of my erection. Using my thumb, I spread the slick beads of moisture along my rigid shaft. I gripped myself firmly and moved my hand up and down as her lithe form moved likewise across the pool.

The background sounds faded into the distance; I was only aware of the sounds of quietly lapping water and my own increasingly rapid panting. As I continued to worship her with my eyes, I imagined it was her hand wrapped around me, pleasuring me as I so wanted to pleasure her.

The tightness gathered and descended from the pit of my stomach, moving like an electric trail of fire into my balls. My movements became more frantic as my need increased. As she slowly climbed up the ladder and out of the pool, water cascaded from the dark sheet of her hair, flowing down her slim waist and over the lush curve of her hips. Each time she raised a foot to the rung above, I caught a glimpse of her smooth inner thigh as it stretched to the Holy Land of the suit-covered apex between her legs.

With a hastily muffled groan, I climaxed, quickly catching the mess with the discarded tank I was still clutching in my other hand. When the stars finally faded from my sight, I hurried to the bathroom and started the shower. As I immersed my face under the stinging spray, I began mentally berating myself.

_You are so fucked, Cullen! _I stormed to myself. _You're so_ _captured by this fragile and wounded woman. She is supposed to be a case−someone to be handled, written up and filed, not to be leered at like some voyeuristic psycho. As if she hasn't had enough of that already!_

I had not seen her dressed in so little since the night we found her. Dirty, cold, injured, and blood-stained then, in the initial urgency, I had not taken in more than that. Her skin was clean and unblemished after her swim, and the thin but dark pink scars of her stitches were the only outward sign of her ordeal. Her figure was now pleasantly rounded but with a hint of growing definition her physical therapy was helping to develop.

Seeing all of her glory revealed like Venus rising from the waves had smashed through every mental barrier I had put in my own way.

I wanted her.

I didn't care that I was a police officer investigating her case. I knew I had been kidding myself, trying to simplify her down into the category of a simple job number. Occasionally a client's situation had meant more to me, touched me more than others had in the past. What I felt for Bella was magnified a hundred-fold compared to those others.

I didn't care that she might not be her usual self and might never be again. I liked this Bella just as she was. I was intrigued by her and was captivated by her every move. Although I had comforted her more than once, she had also calmed me. I found a sense of ease in her presence, as if she soothed me. Bella made it easier for me to let go and be myself.

Then there was the way she made my body react. I had not had an orgasm like that since I had first found the wonders of self-love as a teenager. I could only imagine the intensity of the sensation I might be lucky enough to feel if I actually ever got to make love to her.

Everything about her fascinated me and drew me in. The way she looked−so innocent of her own desirability, yet undeniably striking in an effortless way. The way she sounded−so honest and natural, yet always so warm and womanly. The way she smelled; God, the scent of her alone was enough to make me hard. Her fragrance was so clean and purely Bella, unadulterated by the expensive perfumes so many women used to entice, but that merely masked their real appeal. I had only had a few times to enjoy the feel of her, it seemed, but I cherished every opportunity I had so far. I had felt the fleeting touch of the smooth skin of her hands in mine and had enjoyed the weight and warmth of her body tucked next to mine.

Yes, I wanted her, and I was sick of trying to resist. I had to make some kind of move−some kind of gesture to see if she wanted me just as much. I knew she trusted me, and I had caught her watching me a few times when she thought I wasn't looking. Surely, she must have seen the effect she had on me. She must have realized already that what I felt for her was not just professional concern.

It was time to see how Bella felt−to see whether she wanted the same things I did. I needed to know if she wanted…more…too.

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**Next chapter is Bella's first Sunday supper with the Cullens. I know you want it!**


	26. Chapter 25

**Love and kisses to my beta Ragsstone and thanks to KristenLynn for stepping in as my second beta.**

**Just for RoryCullen, Bella's outfit is in my profile. She asked me to make sure Bella looked pretty for the family supper, and since she writes such detailed and perceptive reviews, I couldn't refuse. **

**Like to walk on the wolfy side now and then? My good friend LaPushStarlight asked me preread her one-shot for a competition. She won third prize, and on her very first fic too! Its called "Another first time," go check it out.**

**SMeyer wrote Twilight. I wrote lots of boring stuff for work mostly before I found fanfiction. Seems I have more to thank her for than I thought.**

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**Chapter 25**

_**Bella**_

It was time, and there I was, hiding in the guestroom. I knew I had to gather my courage and swallow my qualms, but I was nervous.

I had been informed that the Sunday supper tradition in the Cullen household also involved everyone pitching in to help with the preparation. My morning with the Cullen women had been pleasant−enjoyable even. It had been easy to relate to them all. It also helped that I already knew Alice and Rose, and I couldn't imagine anyone not liking Esme. However, this time I'd be meeting Carlisle as well as Rose's husband, Emmett. I had already met Jasper but had only interacted with him in his professional capacity. He might be entirely different in the privacy of his own home, I worried.

_What would they all think of me, some random person taken in like a helpless foundling?_ If I was going to stay with them, it was important to me that I felt comfortable around these people, and they with me.

_Pull yourself together, Bella! How scary can they be? It's not like you're walking into a coven of ravenous vampires, for God's sake! Just get on with it!_

If I didn't voluntarily emerge soon, I knew Alice would come and drag me out like some recalcitrant toddler.

I had deliberated for some time about what to wear, which was another first for me. Previously, I'd been content with my familiar and limited drab wardrobe of teen camouflage, and needed nothing beyond a few hoodies, t-shirts and jeans. Accommodating my cast and various braces meant I had to buy some new things on-line when I was at the clinic. My newfound confidence had made me brave enough to try some different styles and colors. I really wanted make the right impression when meeting the rest of the family and couldn't deny that the chance to dress up for Edward held a certain appeal, too. It was important that I look nice and feel feminine, but I wasn't sure if floral and frills would ever be my "thing."

Instead I had chosen a long-line top in a soft pewter color, which had a pretty cut-out design along the edges of the sleeves and hem. The v-neck made my torso look longer and gave the perception of cleavage. The gathered waist made me look curvier, too. Alice assured me that dinner was a casual affair, so I wore jeans and added the cuff bracelet and watch I purchased earlier that day to hide the scars on my wrists. Checking my appearance in the mirror for the thousandth time, I smoothed my hair with a shaking hand and tugged at the hem of my shirt to straighten it. I took a deep, fortifying breath and left the safety of my room.

I could hear the laughter before I even got close to the kitchen. When I tentatively entered the doorway, I could see some of the family was already gathered there. Esme spotted me first and, with a huge smile, came over and linked her arm in mine.

"Come and meet everyone, Bella. We're almost ready to start."

I swallowed my trepidation and plastered a smile on my face.

She led me over to a handsome man whose blond hair looked almost silvery-white under the kitchen lights. He was dressed in dark jeans, which clung to his athletic build, and wore a casual polo shirt. His face was a study in carved lines, almost like a marble statue of a Roman God. It was his lips that caught my attention, though. They were full and sensuous, elevating him from merely handsome to arresting.

_Wow! The Cullens are the most genetically blessed people I have ever seen. Every person in this household looks as if they should be on a runway in Paris._

The man looked up and smiled at our approach. Noting the fine network of wrinkles that gathered around his eyes as they crinkled up with his grin, I gathered this was the more senior of the men. _This must be Carlisle, then._ My guess proved right as Esme leaned in for a quick kiss.

"Bella, this is my husband, Carlisle."

"It's lovely to meet you," Carlisle said as he smiled and reached out his hand. "I hope you like simple fare. It was my turn to choose the menu for supper tonight. We get invited to so many dinners and fundraisers that I get sick of 'filet' this, and 'coulis' that."

"Oh, I'm sure whatever you've decided to have will be fine with me. It's nice to be invited to join in," I stammered, my nerves still getting the better of me.

"Nonsense! Anyone my sons bring home is more than a guest. Please, try to feel at home here. I understand that the last few weeks have been a bit of a roller coaster for you. I hope you can relax and unwind; it is very secure and private here, like a mini-haven." He paused, looking affectionately at his wife. "At least, I think so, anyway."

"Thank you. I'll try."

I felt overwhelmed with gratitude. These people didn't know me from a bar of soap but had all tried hard to make me as welcome and comfortable as possible.

As Esme led me across the room, I leaned in for a quick question.

"You and Carlisle must have been very young when you started adopting. I thought Carlisle was going to be Emmett for a minute there."

Esme's laughter tinkled through the room as she patted my arm.

"Oh, you _are _good for the ego. I don't know if I will ever let you leave!"

She led me to the breakfast bar where a huge man sat facing away from the bench. Rose stood between his legs, and they were making out like it was an everyday occurrence to do so in the family kitchen. _This must be Emmett, then_−or at least I hoped it was.

"Ahem! Emmett, dear, what have I told you about eating before dinner?"

"I'd say sorry, Mom, but you know I'm not. I can't help myself where Rose's concerned. Besides, I saw what you and Dad were up to in the pantry earlier. Does 'the pot calling kettle black' ring any bells with you?"

Esme just laughed again as I took in the couple in front of me.

Emmett was easily the biggest man I had ever seen. He was tall−taller than Edward even. He was very heavily-built and solid, as his shirt strained to contain his form. Although his sheer size was intimidating, he had the most open and beguiling smile, enhanced by the dimples that marked each cheek. His eyes were a lively, dancing blue, and his short hair a dark brown color. Emmett's huge arms, bulging with muscles, stayed wrapped around Rose's tiny waist.

I still couldn't get used to the sight of Rose in form-fitting clothes and make-up. At the clinic, I'd only ever seen her in loose coveralls, boots, and safety goggles. She was now in skinny jeans, high heels, and a clingy top that showed off her considerable curves. Her glorious blond hair fell in loose waves to her waist. She looked like some fifties pin-up girl.

"You must be Bella. I'm Emmett, the best-looking of the Cullen men. Too bad for you I'm already taken. You'll have to settle for the leftovers, since grumpy-ass Edward is the only one of us not spoken for. Needs a bit of work, but he's a fixer-upper's dream." He stuck out his hand.

I timidly put out my own and he engulfed it with his huge paw, enthusiastically pumping it up and down. Without letting go, he gave Rose a sloppy kiss and a light smack on the ass before standing up.

"Dibs on the newbie!" Emmett hollered, grabbing my hand and dragging me over to the island bench and sink. "We get veggie detail. Better start soon. It takes a lot to keep this bod in top shape, and right now, it tells me it's time to fuel the engine." He handed me a vegetable peeler and put a sack of potatoes on the benchtop next to the sink.

As I picked up a potato, Jasper and Alice came in hand-in-hand. They strolled over to our work area, and Alice gave me a warm hug as Emmett growled at them.

"Keep away! You've all had your turn getting to know her. I want a chance to see if she lives up to the hype."

I felt the panic flare briefly as I wondered what they had all been saying about me, and if I now had something to live up to.

Alice slapped Emmett playfully on the arm. Jasper gave me a welcoming smile before asking who was doing which tasks.

"Mom and Edward are on salads, you and Rose get the biscuit buttering and table setting, and Dad and Alice get pot stirring," Emmett rattled off.

I got to work as Carlisle brought over a couple of huge pots to put the cut vegetables in.

"Whose turn is it to pick the music?" he asked.

Emmett jumped up like a Jack-in-the-box, shouting "Mine, mine!" excitedly as he all but ran over to the docking station to set up his iPod. The sounds of Michael Buble provided a soothing background for our activities.

Emmett returned to his place next to me at the bench and began peeling and chopping vegetables. He started up the conversation by asking about the teaching component of my double degree, and he quizzed me on my plans after college. Edward or Jasper must have told him something of my background. Soon, we were immersed in comfortable chat about the best parts of working with younger children. I felt myself relax, the shared passion for education making me forget my earlier discomfort. I was so caught up in sharing anecdotes with Emmett that I hadn't even noticed Esme set up a couple more chopping boards on the bench opposite us.

I was about to rinse a peeled potato under the faucet when I bumped hands with Edward. He held a handful of lettuce ready for rinsing. I could almost see the sparks fly between us, even with just the slightest brushing of his flesh against mine. My pulse started racing, and heat bloomed in my chest. Edward gave me a hooded look, his eyes flickering with a new emotion−one I couldn't quite recognize. He looked…needy, wistful almost. When my startled gaze flicked briefly to Esme, however, she looked smug as she grinned shrewdly. I rinsed my potato, leaving the tap running for Edward, who was waiting patiently for his turn.

I concentrated on the music, eager for a distraction from a situation I felt too inexperienced to process. A new song was starting, filling the busy space with the atmospheric sound of an acoustic guitar. The song had a slightly different mood to it than the previous ones. The music had a very retro feel, which was smooth and almost bluesy.

"I chose a song especially for you," declared Emmett proudly with a wink in my direction. A lilting, liquid male voice crooned about the mysteries of the moon. When it came to the chorus, Emmett leaned over the bench, snatching a cucumber from Esme's pile of salad items. He began singing into it, his rich baritone slightly at odds with the suave silkiness of Jason Mraz's voice.

"Oh Bella, Bella please,

Bella, you beautiful luna,

Oh Bella, do what you do,

Do do do do do do"

I looked up in shock.

_Emmett is singing a song about me!_

At least I thought he was. I heard the lyrics but assumed it was merely a song about stargazing. Obviously, Emmett saw it as a metaphor for something more.

I heard someone humming along, and I looked up briefly, only to have my gaze captured by blazing green as Edward watched me intently.

My eyes were pinned by the intensity of his; they smoldered, burning through to the very center of my being. Whatever had been sparking within me ignited to life, and it felt as if my whole body flamed with sudden heat. Everything else faded into the background as we engaged in a silent exchange.

"Can I assume from your shenanigans, Emmett, that the vegetables are all ready for the pot?" Carlisle asked, breaking the fragile bubble around Edward and me.

"Yep! So, Bella, think I'm American Idol material?" Emmett asked, a look of almost child-like vulnerability on his face.

"Ah, I loved the song, Emmett, and I'm flattered by your choice but maybe a different one would suit your…style…better?" It was a stretch to find words with the correct balance of diplomacy and truth.

Rose merely snickered over her mound of biscuits on the other bench.

Much later, we all sat around the table, patting our full stomachs. I had been seated between Edward and Emmett, a pleasurable experience.

"I hope the meatloaf was okay," Esme said, breaking the silence. "Carlisle always chooses his old favorites."

"Everything was great. I can't remember the last time I had such a wonderful home-cooked meal."

I couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten so much either. The shopping and swim I'd enjoyed earlier had improved my appetite to the extent that I had been ravenous by the time dinner was served. It had been a pleasant contrast−sitting in the stately and formal dining room, complete with snowy linen, elegant china, and crystal stemware, yet eating such simple comfort food as meatloaf with mashed potatoes and green beans.

"Bella decided to make something special for dessert," Esme announced to everyone. "Do you need any help with the sauce?" she asked, turning to me. I assured her I would be fine and excused myself to make the raspberry syrup for my dish. Finding what I needed, I got to work.

It had been an eventful day, to say the least. I'd enjoyed every minute of it so far. The Cullens had all been so accepting of me, inviting me into the very heart of their tight-knit group. I was beginning to forget all my previous reservations in their company. They were all also easy in each other's presence, the tranquil mood affecting me likewise. There was plenty of light-hearted banter and ribbing, but the regard they all seemed to have for each other was almost palpable. No wonder they all liked to maintain the tradition of their weekly dinners together.

I finished off the sauce, pouring it into a small crystal jug Esme had left out for the purpose. I vaguely registered the pealing of a bell somewhere in the house as I retrieved the frozen white chocolate cheesecake from the huge upright freezer and carefully placed it on a platter. This dessert never failed to impress, although a considerable amount of time had passed since I'd had any occasion to make it. It was a very simple recipe and took hardly any time to throw together, and it set in only a few hours. I had hastily mixed the ingredients together when we returned from our retail adventure before deciding some aquatic exercise would take care of my therapy for the day.

I carefully carried the platter in one hand and the jug in the other, cautiously making my way back to the dining room. It wouldn't do to trip and ruin my masterpiece now. As I entered the room, I heard a superior-sounding snigger.

"Oh, Esme, if you are finally going to relent and hire a housekeeper, you could at least have made her dress the part!"

I could feel the blush color my cheeks as I gently slid my burdens onto the table. Edward jumped up, brushing my hip with his movement before picking up the cake knife that had been placed on the table earlier.

"Oh, no, dear," stated Esme in a calm voice. "This is Bella. We have invited her to move in with us." There was a faint edge of something in Esme's voice. I got the impression that she didn't quite like this interloper.

I looked up to take in the newcomer who sat directly across the table. She was statuesque and stunning with carefully styled ash-blond hair which hardly seemed to move when the rest of her did. Her haughty face was carefully and artfully made up, highlighting every perfect feature. She was expensively dressed too, from what I could see of her as she sat next to Carlisle. Despite her beauty, she seemed to exude an air of dissatisfaction and spite which detracted somewhat from her perfect facade. I quickly scanned the faces of the others; none looked pleased with this turn of events.

"Edward, would you mind doing the honors? I would hate for Bella's efforts to be spoiled." Esme indicated he should cut and serve the cheesecake. He and I formed a mini-production line. He cut neat wedges before placing them on a plate and handing them to me. I poured the raspberry syrup over the top before handing them around the table, making sure to include our new guest.

"This is an old friend of the family," Esme explained for my benefit. "Nina is the eldest daughter of Carlisle's closest colleague, Dr. Rushforth. Nina's sister, Kate, is getting married next month, so Nina thoughtfully hand-delivered our invitation."

"So…kind of you, Nina," Carlisle added, although clearly he thought she was anything but. "When can we expect similar good news for you?"

Nina's posture changed abruptly, with noticeable stiffening of her shoulders. Her eyes narrowed and briefly darted toward Edward, before she smiled tightly at Carlisle.

"Oh, I have been working on a suitable catch for some time. When he realizes how right we are for each other, it will only be a matter of time before our names are permanently linked." She took a minute to examine the immaculately understated French polish of her nails before looking pointedly in my direction. "I'm a firm believer that certain people are destined to be together. Like marrying like, maintaining the social status-quo. We've been together so long, it's inevitable, really, and the only logical next step."

I sat down, my duty now complete, and focused all my attention on my dessert. My mouth was very dry for some reason and my appetite seemed to have fled. Edward sat next to me, moving close enough so that his hip touched mine in a reassuring gesture. I could see his knuckles straining white as he held his dessert fork in a death grip.

"That's…nice for you, Nina. Your young man must be very…lucky," observed Alice in a tight voice.

I looked across to her in puzzlement. Usually so talkative and effusive, it was certainly different hearing Alice picking her words so cautiously.

"Oh, yes," Nina purred. "I know how to make a man _very _happy. I have never lacked for company eager for my…charms." She shrugged one silk-clad shoulder in feigned nonchalance. "I must admit to being very choosy, though. My man doesn't know how lucky he is, getting all of …well, _everything_."

Someone dropped their fork, making a loud clanging noise as it rattled against the china. The atmosphere seemed charged all of a sudden, and I was beginning to feel uncomfortable. I found myself fiddling and pushing the melting creamy mess around my plate. I hazarded another look up, trying to gauge the situation. Everyone seemed to have their attention firmly fixed on their plates.

I found myself mulling over Nina's words. I seemed the only one ignorant of the hidden subtext of her conversation. I discreetly snuck a quick peek at everyone again, trying to determine the source of the growing tension. Nina was staring straight ahead, her gaze heated and seemingly oblivious to anyone else. I felt something briefly brush my foot, before Edwards leg resting against mine abruptly jerked away as he tucked his feet beneath his chair.

_Oh! _Comprehension struck. _OH!_

I stood quickly, desperate to make my escape. "I'll…ah…just take these dishes into the kitchen. Bye now, Miss Rushforth. It was…um…bye.' I bolted into the kitchen, as fast as my awkward, brace-impaired gait would let me.

I had been so stupid! I'd let my imagination run away from me and had allowed myself to start feeling things, seeing things, that I had no right to. My thoughts were a whirlwind of torments as every stupid thing I'd done and said in _his_ presence came back to haunt me.

_Had he noticed my girlish crush and laughed about my naivety? He must think I'm pathetic!_

Edward had always been so nice to me, and I'd started to think it was because he might actually like me and feel some tiny thing for me. I was an idiot. He had just been doing his job all this time. He must have felt really sorry for me, especially if he had noticed how I was beginning to moon over his every word and move. I had even begged him to hold me.

I placed my plate on the bench near the dishwasher, anxious for a distraction of some sort to occupy my shaking hands. Gathering a pile of other dishes, I stacked them to the side before opening the dishwasher. Pulling out the bottom rack, I blindly grabbed dishes from the stack and loaded them in. As I groped for another, a hand closed over mine, drawing me up to standing.

"Bella, I−" Edward started before I interrupted him by raising my hand.

"It's okay, Edward. You don't have to explain anything to me. I'm just a guest." I took a shaky breath.

"Yes, I do, Bella. It's not what you think," Edward pleaded.

"She's very pretty. I'm sure everyone will be very happy for the two of you to be _permanently linked."_ A knife twisted in my heart as I uttered those words, and I looked down, trying to hide my blurring eyes.

"How can you say that? After last night, I thought you knew how I−"

I felt his hand, so warm and smooth as it gently touched my chin and then slid along my jaw. He tilted my head so I had no other choice but to look at him. He examined my face, looking deep into my eyes as if to delve into every hidden thought. His green eyes were probing and his brow was furrowed with concentration.

"No. I was wrong," he whispered. "Maybe you don't know, Bella. I forget that you have never done any of this before." He waved his other hand vaguely between us. "Bella, I…" The hand on my jaw caressed my skin before sliding into my hair as he pulled my face close to his. Bending slightly, he brushed his lips over mine.

I stood paralyzed by the weight of his warm lips, intoxicated by the pure masculine scent that wrapped around my senses, overwhelming me. Taking my lack of action as encouragement, his other arm snaked around my waist, drawing my heaving chest against the hard, muscled planes of his. His lips sought mine again, this time much more demanding as his tongue snaked out to taste my lower lip.

The dizzying sensation of the moist tip of tongue moving against me as he deepened our kiss was enough to bring me to life. Flinging my arms up, I gripped his firm shoulders tightly as I clung to him, bringing my whole body flush with his. I found myself unconsciously opening myself to him, my lips parting as I luxuriated in the new sensations coursing through me. This was all the invitation Edward seemed to need, and his tongue eagerly invaded my mouth. All lucid thought left my head as I submitted totally to the world of feeling, rather than logical thinking. Every part of me seemed surrounded by Edward. His touch, his taste, his scent; all enveloped me completely.

I surrendered myself entirely to his passionate embrace and reveled in it. Allowing my movements to be guided by his, my lips glided over his seeking ones, and my tongue tentatively explored his mouth. His muffled groan let me know I was doing something right as his grip on my waist tightened.

A stray thought flitted lazily through my head.

_I have fallen in love with Edward Cullen_


	27. Chapter 26

**Thank you, Ragsstone and shelikesthesound, for beta-ing my longest chapter yet. I probably stuffed up the comma's in this sentance too, lol.**

**Welcome new readers and love and kisses to all the awesome people who review. Your questions and comments really do fuel my determination and committment. Your reviews brighten my day and make me smile.**

**SMeyer's Twilight saga outsold many of the works produced by winners of the Nobel Prize for Literature. What does that have to do with the compulsory disclaimer? Nothing, really, it just makes you think, doesn't it?**

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**Chapter 26**

_**Edward**_

I was awash with sensation from the lush body in my arms. Her pliant, responsive, and intoxicating form imprinted itself on my skin. Kissing Bella was like nothing I had ever experienced before. It would be so easy to surrender myself to the moment, to lose myself in the feelings Bella invoked in me, but I had to think clearly and act quickly to detour the train wreck Nina almost caused.

I had been shocked and appalled when Esme had shown Nina into the dining room. It had been at least six months since I had had any contact with her, but Nina was nothing if not tenacious. Only Jasper knew the ins and outs of the whole situation between Nina and me, but because the tension had been thick enough to carve with a knife, everyone else could sense that something was up between us.

To my horror, my dad had to ask her the one question that gave her the figurative knife to stick deeper in my gut.

As if that hadn't been bad enough, Nina had tried being seductive and attempted to play footsie with me under the table. Unfortunately, she had snagged Bella's foot first before finding mine.

I could almost pick the exact minute Bella had realized what game Nina was trying to play. Her face was an open book with every expression and emotion played out in those expressive brown eyes. After she fled, I had hissed an expletive-laden warning to Nina and followed Bella.

After our moment in the kitchen before supper and what we had shared last night, I had thought she would see something of how I felt for her. I had attentively watched Bella in the thick of my family; she interacted so effortlessly with them and it made my heart soar. Knowing my family accepted and liked Bella confirmed every perception and instinct I had regarding her.

Then as we had both reached out to rinse something, our hands had touched, and I could feel that invisible pull between us strengthen. Everything about this woman was right. She was smart, funny and warm. She was kind-hearted and brave. She fit in perfectly−fitted_ me_ perfectly. She was beautiful, inside and out.

The inconvenient arrival of that desperate bitch, Nina, had almost ruined everything, before I had even had a chance to make a definitive move. As soon as I saw the expression and hurt on Bella's face when I forced her to look at me, I knew she was mentally chastising herself. I couldn't stand the thought of her experiencing a single moment of discomfort because of that poisonous shrew. I couldn't help myself, I felt compelled to do something to fix it−to convey to Bella exactly what she meant to me. So I kissed her.

_Boy, did I kiss her!_

Kissing Bella was both intensely arousing and exquisitely torturous. I could taste the tantalizing mix of sweet raspberries and tart cheesecake in her mouth, while her clean scent enveloped me in a heady fog. My brain reeled, and I wanted so many things at once. Before I allowed myself to get lost in the experience, however, I knew an explanation was needed before things went any further. With a sigh, I reluctantly ended the kiss as I moved my hands to rub reassuringly along her arms. Grasping her hand, I led her to the patio doors off the kitchen and out to the back garden.

It was a mild night, and the sky was clear enough to see a smattering of stars. I sat on a wooden bench, drawing Bella down to sit beside me. The light spilling through the windows from the kitchen provided just enough illumination to see by, and we would have some measure of privacy out there. Our fingers were still linked, and I marveled at her dainty hands, so soft and pale compared to my big, slightly rough and sun-browned ones. I took a deep, bracing breath, thinking of how best to frame my words.

"Bella, I'm extremely sorry for the scene you just witnessed. The impression Nina tried so hard to establish is totally false. In fact, everything I thought I ever knew about that woman turned out to be a lie." I drew in another shaky breath, lifting up my free hand to run through my hair.

"The truth is, Nina and I were…involved…for a while. We had known each for a long time, since our fathers had begun working together. Initially, I never noticed her. She was an annoying kid−a spoiled brat−from what I remember. Her sisters, Kate and Tanya, were the same. We all went to different schools and mixed with different people."

It was the first time I had really analyzed what had happened and how I unwittingly ended up where I was.

"When I finished high school, I was accepted into Northwestern University's pre-law program. My birth father had gone there, too, which was part of the reason I applied. It was hard, moving away from my family and more of a wrench than I anticipated. Although I was happy to be going, I knew I would struggle without their support. My family keeps me in line, you know? They keep me grounded." I met Bella's eyes.

She nodded her understanding, looking almost envious.

"So there I was, a thousand miles from home, and who should show up in my very first class but Nina. At the time I was surprised, but after all, Northwestern is known as one of the best law schools in the country, and Nina had always wanted and been given nothing but the best. I was also a little relieved to see someone familiar, so we started to hang out together. We sat together in class, went to mixers together, and bumped into each other in the gym, that sort of harmless stuff." I hesitated for a moment, not sure how much detail I wanted to get into.

"She was friendly, smart enough and attractive. Before I knew it, we were an "item." It took me a long time to work out that what I saw then wasn't the real Nina." I looked down at our linked hands again, grounding myself in Bella and taking my courage from her.

"Nina and I seemed to have so much in common. We got along well, and I thought things were uncomplicated between us. We coasted along together until almost the end of first year. I got good grades and even won a coveted academic prize. I always knew, though, that law wasn't my dream. Nina, on the other hand, seemed all set on her path, so I just sort of followed along."

The next part was harder to talk about. In fact, I had never discussed it with anyone outside of my family before.

"My real parents were…" my voice cracked, and I swallowed convulsively, trying hard to maintain my composure. Bella squeezed my hand and leaned her head against my shoulder while her free hand wrapped around the arm still clutching her hand.

"My real parents were killed after disturbing a burglar who broke into our house in the middle of the night. I was five at the time. I'll never forget the policeman who found me hiding under my bed and rescued me. He knew something about the scene was off from the start. It was purely because of his tireless probing that eventually my dad's business partner was charged with the crime. He'd been embezzling money from client accounts and trust funds. Apparently, my dad was getting a bit suspicious of some of his practices, so he'd taken the books home to review. Dad's partner had intended to break in and recover the ledgers, but Dad caught him in the act." The pain was the same every time I thought about it−hot and searing. The change it had made in my life was enormous, and the waste and futility of the situation weighed heavily on me. I closed my eyes against sting of loss−both remembered and lived.

The bewitching woman by my side always seemed to instinctively understand what I needed. Bella unwound her hand from my arm and snaked it as far as she could reach along my broad shoulders. She drew slow, consoling circles on my shoulder blade, easing the stiffness that had gathered there with the retelling. I allowed the tension in my muscles to lessen a little, thankful for her empathy and soothing touch.

"Anyway, Officer Platt had a big impact on me in more ways than one. As soon as he and his partner took me out to their car, he immediately called a social worker he knew. The social worker was his sister, and that was how I met Esme," I recounted, smiling at the memory.

"That night left a big impression on me and was the reason I wanted to be a policeman. As time went on and I did well at school, people kept applying well-meaning pressure, urging me to chase some high-powered profession. I've noticed a lot of high achievers are encouraged to do things like medicine, engineering, or law. They're all important jobs, so I let myself get seduced by the talk for a while. Once I was at Northwestern, though, I started to feel like an imposter. I didn't have the passion for it or the overwhelming drive to give up everything−to _be_ anything−to reach the elusive finish line in the race to the bar." I stared into the dark backyard, remembering with a shudder how cut-throat some of the other students had been in their competition for favor and kudos.

"I knew that by the end of first year I'd finally be old enough to apply for the police force, and my academic background would only add weight to my application. I don't know what held me back from telling Nina of my plans. At the time, I told myself it was just to save me from embarrassment if I didn't get in but I have to wonder if, on some level, I knew she wouldn't approve. I flew home the weekend of Esme's birthday to take the entry exam there, hoping I'd be able to work closer to home if I got accepted. I aced it and was invited to return for the physical and polygraph testing, so I again made an excuse to travel home to get it all done. When I received the offer of employment, I was so excited that I rushed over to Nina's dorm to share my good news." I could feel my mouth pull into a grimace at the recollection.

"She flew into a screaming rage, telling me I was ruining my life and throwing everything away to be some lowly beat cop. She basically told me I'd never amount to anything unless I became a lawyer. I told her that being a cop was my dream, and she just laughed in my face, telling me that I wasn't the man she thought she was getting." I paused again, sneaking a quick sideways look at Bella. Her head was leaning against my shoulder as she stared off into the distance, seemingly entranced by my story.

"We didn't speak again, and I left a week later after the end of exams. I felt let down and angry at her selfishness, but also a little guilty that I hadn't been open with her about my plans from the start. Throwing myself into my training, I vowed to keep away from women for a while." I sighed again, thinking back to how blind I had been at the time.

"I bumped into Nina again a couple of years later. For the sake of old times and to be polite, we made small talk for a while. I told her that I was still studying law and criminology part-time. She told me about her internship in some prestigious law firm. As the wine flowed, she got more and more sentimental about how good things had been before our break-up. She told me how much she regretted "letting me go," and seemed to realize that we could have worked through it, if only she had only given me the chance. We declared a sort of truce and started meeting up on occasion again."

The next part was harder for me to understand, and I had been there.

"I think I had missed how easy things had seemed between us. We never argued, except for that one time." I almost snorted at myself, but I was mindful of Bella's presence next to me.

"Are you sure you want to hear all of this, Bella?" I was beginning to think she would want nothing further to do with me after I explained the whole sorry mess. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but I really want to be honest with you about everything. I made so many mistakes with Nina. If I learned anything, it's that you can only trust someone when you've known them at their worst but still care for them anyway."

She turned her face up to mine, and I could see her eyes, so luminous in the filtered light.

"I want to know everything you're willing to share with me, Edward. After the other night−" Her head dropped for a minute, and when she raised it again to look at me, I could see the raw emotion there. "After the other night," she continued, "I realized that telling someone about your most shameful secrets is sort of liberating. I think we are far harder on ourselves than others will ever be, and keeping those things in just allows them to fester. We're all human, and we all make mistakes. As long as we learn from them and try not to repeat them, then who has the right to cast stones?"

I squeezed her hand, touched and reassured by her lack of judgment.

"I sort of fell into a relationship with Nina again. I can't even pinpoint when it started to happen, things just…developed? Moved on? Rationally, I know exactly when it became physical, but looking back now, it's hard to know when it became emotional. I'd like to say I was young and clueless, but that's not the case. I told myself I felt more for her than I did and thought I could trust her. After all, when you're in a relationship, you're supposed to trust the other person, right?"

I gazed at our still linked hands. "Somehow, after meeting you and experiencing _this_," I lifted our hands slightly, "I don't think−no, _I know_ that it never really got to that level at all. I think that over time I managed to convince myself that the attachment was there. We seemed well suited, we got along just fine and everyone else thought we were perfect for each other. Everyone except my family, that is." I looked over to the kitchen windows, not at all surprised to see Alice and Rose peering out into the darkened yard, trying to see us.

"It should have been a dead giveaway when they never warmed to her. I brought her home once for dinner, and it was a disaster from the first minute. Nina took their joking around personally, rather than just as fun as it was intended. She avoided Sunday suppers, never stayed over, and hardly visited here. I was sort of relieved in a way since home was my refuge, and I didn't want to have to deal with the tension her presence created when she came over. She was always really jealous of the time I spent with them all, though."

"I don't know how anyone could not like your family," Bella exclaimed with indignation. "They are all so caring and considerate. As for jealousy, well that's just silly. It's not like they're interfering or overbearing. She must have seen them as competition or something."

"I'm sure she did, and she tried her best to keep me away from them on my days off. We went out together all the time when my work allowed. Nina had a lot of dinners and events for work, and I was her constant date." I had to wonder if that was the attraction for her all along−having an "appropriate" date of good pedigree and intelligence that looked okay in a suit.

"I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised with what happened next with her. Nina started talking about us getting a place of our own and moving in together. I was a bit evasive in the beginning and managed to put her off for a while. For some reason, the idea unsettled me and made me uneasy. I knew I wouldn't be able to deflect her forever; I would have to make my decision known, one way or another. We were the perfect couple, apparently. It was the next step expected, just as she said, right?"

I began to shift uneasily on the bench. If Bella had not been there to anchor me, I'm sure I would have jumped up to pace. Sensing my discomfort, she moved her hand from my shoulder to my thigh, rubbing in long strokes along the outside of my denim-clad leg. Her movements once again soothed and grounded me and I continued.

"She started making hints about what I should do after I finished studying. She was hoping I would become a police prosecutor and use my degree in that way. She was always thinking about ways to encourage me to aim higher−to leave the beat behind." I laughed. It was a bitter and joyless sound in the quiet dark.

"That's when I think I finally recognized that I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't pretend that we wanted the same things. I wanted to know−no, _needed_ to know−did she really want me as I was? Did she really want me working in a job I knew I would hate just to make her happy?" My free hand came up to idly scratch my scalp as the remembered sense of frustration came back in vivid detail.

"So, I called her at home, saying there was something important I needed to ask her. I wanted to have it all out in the open, to clarify things in my own mind. She completely misunderstood my intention and when I went to meet her, her family were all there offering congratulations−on our _engagement_."

Bella sat upright as if shocked by a taser, her mouth a perfect grimace of horror. Her hand tightened to a death grip while her other flew to her chest. I almost laughed again at her expression.

"Yeah, exactly how I felt. I must have looked like the village idiot, standing in front of them with my mouth hanging open. As my shock wore off, though, it was replaced by anger. I felt duped, and at the same time pressured into something that that never even crossed my mind. Every sense of disquiet and question seemed to fuse in my mind in that minute and I…just lost it. I turned to Nina and let loose everything I'd held back inside me. I told her I didn't want to move in with her and had never had a single thought about marrying her. I said that I wasn't even sure that I loved her, and that we had ended up together because she kept chasing me, and because it was convenient for us both. She started yelling back, saying it wasn't about love, it was about alliance and that we were meant for each other. It was horrible−_I_ was horrible. I never should have said half the things I did, but it all just poured out." I was silent for a while, and my free hand raked through my hair in my agitation.

"We were a real spectacle, trading harsher and crueler words as everything just erupted out. I discovered more about her in that one argument than I had in the two years we'd been a couple. She decided long before college that I was the perfect man for her and only did law because I did. Every event was carefully orchestrated to push us together. Once she started, she realized that the prestige and status of becoming a lawyer were enough to motivate her to continue, even after I left for the academy. She never liked all those things I thought we had in common. Hell, her name wasn't even Nina, it was Irina. She had changed it herself as a kid because she thought it sounded too 'ethnic.' Who the hell does that?" I asked, throwing my hand into the air in a gesture of silent question.

"How does something like that happen? I don't mean to seem critical, but I just sort of assumed cops came with an inbuilt radar for lies," Bella asked, her voice genuinely curious.

"I may be a cop, Bella, but I am still just a man−a very stupid and gullible man. Or I was back then, anyway. It was my own fault, to be honest. I put my trust in someone who had never really earned it. I let myself be led along blindly and never clarified things. It all sounds so very shallow when I say it out loud. Looking back now, I think she was just really good at subtle manipulation. Everything she did or said was done to steer me in a certain direction, applying delicate but continual pressure to lead me where she wanted me. I should have been more cautious but I thought she loved me…I was clueless, really. I sort of felt dirty after. Seeing how my parents are together, I should know what a real relationship looks like. Instead, I allowed myself to be seduced by a cheap imitation of it and look how _that_ turned out."

My head drooped onto my chest as I made my final confession. "The worst part is that she didn't just ruin my trust in others, she ruined my trust in myself and my sense of judgment. I've been second guessing everything since. That's why it took me so long to say anything to you."

I knew I needed to follow the soul-baring up with something to show Bella where the conversation was leading. It was the most daunting part to admit, at least out loud, even though I'd known it subconsciously for some time. _Time to man up and bite the bullet, so to speak._

I reached out my hand, bringing it to Bella's jaw again. I wanted to look at her when I confessed, craving her reaction to my admission.

"Since I met you, I have started to feel things I've never felt before, _ever_. I feel…drawn to you. I can't stop thinking about you. You make me feel…so many things at once." I struggled for a minute, trying to find the words to describe how what I felt for her was so different from what I felt−or rather, _not_ felt for Nina.

"You said Nina was pretty, and I suppose she is. She has to work at it, though−the clothes, the hair, the make-up, and God knows what else. I have not once seen her once without any of that. It's all false, a façade carefully tailored to each situation. Nina is like a chameleon, and the things I thought we had in common were all a lie to make us seem compatible. I never felt the instant attraction for her like I've felt with you.

"You, Bella, are natural. You're just you−honest and real. Genuine. I know you think it hasn't always been like that, but I'm sure it has. You just hid it from everyone. Now you're done hiding, the real, unforced you shines through in everything you do. You are...just blossoming in front of my eyes. You're beautiful as you are. You're smart, kind, and have all sorts of talents just waiting to be discovered. I know I've learned more about you in the few short weeks we have known each other than I ever really learned about her. I know you hate Brussels sprouts and liver. I know you love Cyndy Lauper's music and Harry Potter books. You're not afraid to disagree with me about something or show me how you really feel about things."

My fingers idly stroked along the soft flesh underneath her jaw, feeling her pulse as it strummed steady and strong beneath my fingertips.

"The truth is I'm attracted to you, on so many different levels. I want…I really want to be with you but I need to know if you want that, too. After all you have been through, I'll understand if you tell me you don't want this. I know it's all new to you, but it is to me, as well. I've never felt this way about anyone before you. It's hard to bare myself like this, when every inclination I have after Nina is to lock every part of me away. I want to try, though, if you feel anything at all for me. I think that if we give each other a chance, things could be really good between us. I just need to know how you feel."

My heart started to beat faster as I waited for her answer, worried that I had just made the biggest idiot out of myself by spilling my rawest secrets and hopes.

She clutched at my hand as the other snaked up to tentatively touch my jaw, just as I still held hers. "Oh, Edward! I…I've started…I have… I feel things… for you, too! I thought you would never be interested in someone like me, especially when you're so…you!"

Her eyes closed momentarily, and when she opened them again, they were brimming with emotion. "I feel a little better now, knowing that you're human, too. I'm so glad you could talk to me so openly, and I appreciate how hard that must have been after my own word vomit the other night," she murmured, as her fingers gently stoked along the slight roughness of my Sunday stubble.

"So, are you willing to give me a chance?" I asked, needing her absolute confirmation one way or another. My eyes burned into hers, desperately trying to decipher what I saw there. Her eyes stayed locked with mine, and we stared at each other searchingly.

"I never stood a chance once you looked at me with those enticing green eyes of yours…" she replied in a serious tone. "And when you're in that uniform…" She groaned dramatically, and my elation was impossible to contain as I laughed.

Letting my hand fall back to my lap to cover the one still holding hers, I asked my next question.

"Since I'm going to try to do things the right way this time, I had better ask you properly. Bella Swan, will you go on a real date with me?"

"I'd like nothing better, Edward Cullen," she replied. Her eyes danced with barely contained happiness.

We both sat there grinning at each other like loons. Her smile melted away, and it was replaced by an almost hungry look.

"Edward? Can I ask something?" she whispered with a low, hesitant voice.

I hummed my agreement, still lost in the surging emotions.

"Kiss me again? My brain sort of stopped working properly last time, and I want to remember how awesome my first kiss was."

I let go of her hand so I could slide my own along the side of her neck, burying my fingers in her lustrous hair. My other arm slid along the swell of her hip, drawing her as close to me as I could, until the entire length of our thighs were pressed close enough for me to feel the heat radiate through the denim of her jean-covered leg. I stared deep into her eyes, lost there as her breath hitched, before finally pressing my lips once again to hers.

This kiss was different than the one we had shared earlier. As my lips molded to the soft shape of hers, I could feel the passion and promise there. My eyes closed, and I became lost in the myriad of sensations Bella evoked in me. She placed her hand tentatively on my chest. As our kiss deepened I swept my tongue out to brush her luscious lips. With an appreciative sigh, her mouth opened enough for me to gain entrance, and I gleefully embraced the opportunity to once again savor the taste of her. As her hand fisted the material over my chest, it innocently brushed my nipple. The unfurling of desire that followed made me groan.

_No wonder nipples are considered an erogenous zone. _

As a male, I had underestimated the pleasure a simple touch there could bring. Mindful that we had to return inside soon, I toned things down, returning for a few brief and chaste pecks.

"We should go inside and see if we can catch them all with their noses still pressed against the window," I joked.

Bella still appeared a bit dazed after our kiss, her eyes still fixed on the movement of my lips. As recognition returned, she started to fidget slightly, shuffling on the bench.

"Um, Edward? How do you think your family will take this…us?"

"I don't think you have anything to worry about there. Just by bringing you home, they knew that there was something different about you. I'm sure Jasper knew I had feelings for you before I did. They all seem to like you so far, and that certainly never happened with Nina. Let's just focus on how we feel first, before we start worrying about others, okay?"

I stood up, pulling Bella with me as we returned to the kitchen.

The muffled conversation we could hear when I opened the door for Bella cut off immediately as we entered, and there was a flurry of scuffling as everyone returned to their tasks in a poorly disguised attempt at casualness. When we came into the kitchen, Mom and Alice were loading the dishwasher as Dad and Rose cleared the bench tops. Emmett was scrubbing pots, his bulging forearms straining the bands of his ludicrous rubber gloves−complete with lace frills, pearl trim, fake red fingernails, and a garish dress ring. Jasper was drying, his familiar wry smile evident. He was the only one not feigning nonchalance, and I couldn't help but grin back.

_Yes, I think my family is taking it just fine!_

My dad wiped his hands before coming over to us.

"I must apologize for the behavior of our guest, Bella. I'm sorry if she upset you. The poor girl has always had somewhat of a high opinion of herself. As you saw, she has a lot of delusional beliefs. After you left, I informed her that if she continued to be rude to a member of our family that she wouldn't be welcome in our home again." He patted her on the shoulder before returning to his cleaning.

"You…you didn't have to do that…for me," Bella stuttered, clearly touched by Dad's gesture and his reference to her being a member of the family.

"Oh yes he did!" stormed Mom with a sudden fierceness. "I should have stabbed her eyes out with my dessert fork. We all make mistakes and you made a huge one ever believing anything that witch said, Edward. I'm just glad you recognized a good one when you found her," she emphasized, striding over to hug Bella. She then started laughing. "I think she was the one who wanted to stab her own eyes out after, though. She got all huffy after Carlisle told her off and insisted on finding Edward to say goodbye. She walked to the kitchen but came running back, looking as if someone threw a cold bucket of water over her. I think she might have seen something she didn't like…" She quirked an eyebrow at Bella, whose shy smile confirmed Mom's theory of what Nina had seen.

"Don't ever let anyone like her intimidate you," she advised Bella, staring intently into her eyes. "You are worth ten of her."

I squeezed Bella's hand, and throwing my arm around her shoulder, I drew her closer to me, seconding everything my mother said with a kiss to her temple.

Bella nervously cleared her throat, still obviously anxious after so many things had changed in the course of one evening.

"I, uh…I'm a bit tired after everything today. I think I might call it a night. Thanks for dinner and the moral support. It means a lot. Goodnight, everyone," she stuttered out. Everyone turned toward us, speaking at once, as a chorus of "goodnights" and "sleep wells" rang out.

Bella pulled me toward the guestroom, clearly not ready to let go of my hand just yet. Once inside her room, she firmly shut the door behind us before wrapping her arms around my waist and placing her cheek against my chest. I could feel her warm breath through the cotton of my shirt. I bent my head to bury my nose in her hair, inhaling the enticing scent of Bella. After a few blissful minutes enjoying just holding her, I brought my hand up to tilt her chin toward me, kissing her as deeply as I dared. I knew I would have to take things carefully with Bella since everything was still so new to her. I lost myself to the feel of her returning my kisses fervently as time receded, and I forgot everything and everyone else.

I wanted to never have to move from this spot, my arms full of gorgeous and enticing woman, my lips connecting over and over with hers, her sweet breath huffing out as she became increasingly breathless.

"I'd better go while I still have the strength to pull myself away," I murmured, fighting the urge to bar the door and keep her to myself forever. Saying a final goodnight, I reluctantly disentangled myself from her embrace. I turned at the door, needing just one more glimpse of her to take with me to help me get through the night without her. Now that I had told her how I felt−feelings that, amazingly, she returned−I wanted to be with her every moment of every day and every night. I hoped, someday soon, she would want to spend her nights with me, too.


	28. Chapter 27

**Thank you to my lovely beta Ragsstone for her continued efforts and support. This week my second beta was Angelz1114577, who was very sweet :)**

**Go Ask Alix, your pm function won't let me reply again. I wasn't ignoring you, honest! I like our chats so please could you fix it?**

**Well, this is the big first date. Since I had such fun putting together pictures for RoryCullen, I did one for this chapter too. The link is on my profile.**

**If I deliberately forget the disclaimer, will Smeyer come after me? Lets see...**

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**Chapter 27**

_**Bella**_

I was wrung out and overwhelmed after the events of the day. It had been intense even before Nina had crashed the family dinner. There had been my morning with the girls, then shopping, swimming, and making supper. Edward had kissed me, and I had been on an instant high ever since, sure nothing could ever top that.

Then he had spoken about his past with Nina, releasing all the hurt and shame he had felt about what had happened. It seemed as if once he started talking, he couldn't stop, finally letting everything go. I loved the fact he was comfortable enough to be so honest and open with me as it showed an enormous amount of trust. I knew from recent experience that sharing that side of yourself was painful, but also very liberating. I was so glad he had been able to do so with me. I felt that somehow we were on a more equal footing now, both altered by our pasts but hopefully stronger for surviving them.

The acceptance and support offered by his family also blew me away. I had been intimidated by Nina's obvious scorn, and my fragile sense of confidence had been so easily trampled. Edward's actions and words helped restore it, and I was bolstered further to hear as his parents came to my defense as well. It was almost as easy to fall in love with his family as it had been with Edward himself.

When I crawled into bed, my head was initially reeling from all the emotion and adrenaline of the day. It had been pure bliss to finally be able to give into the overwhelming need to touch Edward in some small way. I kept replaying our kisses and the feel of him against me until I was sure I would spontaneously combust. I had no idea that my body could react in such an instant and heated way. Sure, I had read about love, passion, and lust, but some abstract description in a book was a poor shadow compared to experiencing the real thing. I wanted more of the same, and I wanted…other things, too. Things I had never thought appealing became almost irresistibly thrilling when I thought of doing them with Edward.

Finally, my racing thoughts slowed and became sluggish as I began to slide toward sleep. As exhausted as I was, though, I found myself jerking awake just when I was on the brink of sleep. Even the traces of Edward's smell lingering in my bed couldn't soothe away my sense of disquiet. I tried to figure out what was stopping me from surrendering to the pull of sleep.

The room was bathed in the warm glow of the bedside lamp, so I knew it wasn't the dark. It was quiet but not silent; I didn't think that was the source of my unease. I tried to relax my body again but ended up startling myself as I jolted awake again. Huffing with frustration, I threw myself out of bed, dragging the comforter with me.

Timidly, I made my way back into the kitchen. In the soft glow of the single light left burning, I could see it was empty, everyone else having retired for the night. I felt the tension leave me instantly, and I deliberated for a while about why before something occurred to me. Clearly this kitchen was the heart of the Cullen's home. I had felt so embraced and welcomed every time I had been in this room, a sentiment which helped settle my unease. Knowing it was very odd behavior, but recognizing I would never get any sleep otherwise, I dropped my blanket and returned to my room. Filling my arms with spare pillows and cushions from the loveseat, I returned to the kitchen and made myself a makeshift mattress out of the way. My last thought as I surrendered to sleep at last was a hasty prayer that I would wake up before anyone else found me there.

_Wasted effort, busted anyway._

"…so cute, curled up like a kitten…"

Someone stroked my head tenderly. I snuggled into my warm cocoon.

"..must be having trouble sleeping…how much can one person survive without…"

"…all alone…now has you…you have each other…"

Awareness came to me slowly as my brain surfaced lethargically from sleep. I could hear muted voices and sounds close by as the occupants of the room tried hard not to disturb me. With a momentary sense of bewilderment, I opened my eyes and took in my surroundings. I was on the floor and tucked into a corner of the kitchen. I wriggled, taking note of the soft cushions underneath me.

Comprehension returned slowly.

I rose slowly, and still in my comforting cocoon, I shuffled to sit at the breakfast bar. Keeping my chin tucked in, I mumbled an embarrassed greeting to whoever was there.

Strong arms wrapped around me from behind as Edward dropped a kiss on the top of my head.

"Morning, gorgeous girl," he murmured, his voice low in my ear.

"My hair always looks like a haystack first thing in the morning, the pillow probably left creases on my face, and I'm sure I've got dried drool on my chin. Gorgeous I am not!" I retorted.

"I think you're beautiful. Even your drool is cute," he bantered, kissing my chin this time.

Alice set a mug of coffee in front of me, her eyes bright with questions.

"Did you lock yourself out of your room or something?" asked Alice.

"I…er…couldn't sleep," I stuttered, not sure how else to describe my impromptu camp-out.

"It's okay, Bella," soothed Edward. "You don't have to explain. Someone crept up on you when you were in bed twice now. No wonder you're a bit jumpy about sleeping. We'll just have to sort out something so you can sleep more comfortably."

I allowed myself to sag into the comfort of his embrace, relieved that he had understood and articulated what I had been unable to myself. I liked the sound of his "we," enormously comforted by the thought that at last, I wouldn't have to do things alone.

Releasing me, he pulled his stool close and sat so our legs were touching. Alice put plates of scrambled eggs and toast in front of us as she chatted about her plans for the day. We sat together companionably, making arrangements for my transport. My physical therapy session wouldn't start until after nine, so I would travel to the clinic with Rose. Alice's shift started earlier since she assisted residents with personal care tasks. I would then drive back after three p.m. with Alice. I looked forward to the opportunity to get to know the girls better one-on-one during the drive.

Edward had the day off and said he had "guy stuff" to work on while I was gone. I rolled my eyes at his vague reference as he smiled at my gesture. Alice soon dashed off to get ready to leave while Edward and I lingered over the remains of our breakfast. We talked and eventually cleaned up after ourselves, all the while remaining in almost constant physical contact. Some part of us was always touching−hands, hips, or thighs−in a purely innocent way. I had some difficulty keeping my thoughts likewise, though, as the heat of his body ignited mine, sending thrilling tingles to places that had been dormant before now.

He had said that he was drawn to me, and now I knew exactly what he meant. He was like magnetic north for me; I felt myself being pulled toward him by a sheer force of attraction, almost as if some invisible cord bound us to each other. I reveled in the feeling, enjoying the sense of closeness and ease being near him gave me.

All too soon, I had to go and get ready for the day. Once I was showered and dressed, I returned to the kitchen to wait for Rose. Edward made the most of the brief interlude, kissing me until I forgot everything else but the feel of his lips on mine and his hand at the small of my back.

Our reverie was broken by the sound of Rose's work boots stomping across the tiled floor as she entered the kitchen. I had a feeling her footsteps had been exaggerated to give us fair warning of her arrival. After a final goodbye kiss, we left the kitchen. Rose drove a huge silver pick-up with a fiberglass canopy over the tray, which was stacked high with various art supply boxes. I stood staring at the open passenger-side door, wondering how on earth I was going to climb up into the cab with my leg brace on. Suddenly I was hoisted into the air and dumped unceremoniously on the bench seat. When I turned, mouth agape, I almost expected Edward to be standing there. Instead, it was Rose. Still sporting a smug smile, she went around to the driver's side before getting in.

"Wow, Rose. You're stronger than you look."

Rose was wearing formless gray sweat pants and a flannel shirt today, both too big for her svelte frame.

"Damn straight, baby, and don't you forget it!" was her clipped reply.

"So, what's with the uniform?" I asked, waving loosely at her attire. "I understand the not wanting to ruin your clothes thing, but you take it up a whole level." I was curious. Every time I had seen her at the clinic, she was dressed similarly, yet at home her clothing was more relaxed and revealing.

She shot me a brief assessing look before turning her attention back to the road.

"I'm not very good at the touchy-feely girly-talk bullshit, Bella." She gave me a small smile to soften her words before continuing. "But since you spilled your guts yesterday, and you're living with us now, I think it's only fair I tell you a little of my past. I also recognize that you're a tough piece of woman, too, just like me."

I settled into my seat, watching her face raptly. I got the distinct feeling Rose rarely talked about herself, so I was ready to make the most of any insight she was willing to share.

"You heard of sexting?" she asked, looking over briefly as I nodded. "Well, sexting altered my whole life. Back in senior year, I fell hard for this guy. One night, I stayed over at his place. I woke up in the morning feeling really sick. I was groggy and sore, and I had symptoms like the stomach flu. Royce took me home, and I spent a couple of miserable days away from school recovering. Or at least, I thought I was miserable. When I went back to school, the true wretchedness started."

Rose kept her face directed straight ahead, but I could see her jaw clench with strain.

"It turns out that Royce slipped me something that night and filmed himself doing…things to me. Things I had made clear were off limits. A few days after, pictures and videos of us were everywhere. Everyone had it on their phone, and it was apparently posted on some pretty hard-core websites. My life turned into a living hell. Although you couldn't see my face, Royce made it clear without actually confirming it out loud that it was me. I spoke to the police, but there was nothing identifying enough to prove it was me, and I couldn't remember a thing, so they couldn't really do anything. When they questioned him, it turned out he was sleeping with other skanks the whole time, one of whom swore it was her."

I could see her knuckles tightening on the steering wheel.

"My phone rang night and day. I was harassed, followed, and hounded so much, I had to change schools. After someone tried to break into our house, we ended up moving away. From then on, I swore that I would never trust a man again. I had been one of those typical vain cheerleader ho's, flirting with every hot guy who took my fancy. I dressed for attention and to tease. I was hot, and I made sure everyone knew it. After Royce, I vowed I would never use my body in that way again. If a man was brave enough to try to get close to me, he was going to have to prove he liked _me_ and not the superficial exterior."

She snorted and rolled her eyes. She obviously knew what my next question would be, before I even had the chance to speak the words.

"Emmett and I met in college. We were both studying psychology. He put up with a lot of shit from me, but he never gave up. He must have some sort of masochistic streak. He wooed me−_hard. _He's quite the romantic when he wants to be." Her lips turned up into a small secret smile.

"I made him wait a whole year of dating before we slept together. Even then, I wouldn't actually sleep after; I would kick him out and make him go home."

"I've heard of girls sending naked pictures of themselves to boyfriends that then do the rounds of their friends, but that−" I was lost for words. "Is that why you got into martial arts, too?"

"Yep," she said. "My body, to display as I choose; my strength, to use as I choose." She spoke the words like a well-worn mantra.

"When will you and Emmett start teaching me?" I asked, trying to steer the conversation to a lighter topic. One of my goals had been to improve my fitness and strength so that I could fight off an attacker, and Rosalie had volunteered their combined services.

"Well, Edward and Jasper work until eleven p.m. tomorrow, so you'll have your next few evenings free. How about we start then?"

I agreed enthusiastically, looking forward to moving on with my plans.

My day at the clinic flew by. I spent my morning in physical therapy sweating away, much to Alice's approval. She introduced some basic weight training to my regime, as well as swimming. In the afternoon, I spent an hour in occupational therapy doing brain gym exercises. My memory scores were improving all the time; in fact, I was sure with the constant mental schooling, I had significantly increased my general recall and observation skills compared to how they had been before my injuries.

The last part of my time was spent in Rose's studio. I was putting together a portfolio of pieces for the clinic's annual exhibition and fundraiser. That was planned for early November, so I was in a flurry trying to get together some pieces of suitable quality. Although I was nervous about other people seeing my work, I was secretly excited about it, too. I loved immersing myself in a variety of mediums, coaching amazing color and shapes with mere swipes of paint or pastels.

When it came time to meet Alice by her car, I felt energized and pleasantly buzzed from the stimulating rigors of my day. As I strolled out into the warmth of the afternoon sun, I was temporarily blinded by the brightness shining directly into my eyes. Scrunching them against the sudden onslaught, it took me a moment to readjust. As my vision cleared, my steps faltered before I stopped altogether, giving me time to fully appreciate the image in front of me.

Leaning against a sleek, black, vintage Mustang was Edward. He faced away from me, his lanky frame propped casually over the top of the car, staring off into the gardens behind the parking area. He was braced up on his forearms, his firm butt angled toward me in silent invitation. He was wearing dark jeans, tight in all the right places as they hung low on his narrow hips. I admired the slimness of his waist, his broad shoulders elongating his torso into a delicious triangle, so masculine and so ripped. I could see the play of his taut muscles rippling under his dark blue t-shirt as he moved his weight from one arm to the other. The bright sun highlighted the reddish tints in his hair, making it appear almost totally auburn. The light smattering of hair on his defined forearms glowed golden-red in the sunlight.

_It is sinful how good-looking this man is. How's a girl supposed to compete with that?_

"I can hear you drooling, Bella," teased Edward, turning to me with a cheeky smirk. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"

"I, ah…" I cleared my throat before trying again. "What are…um, did you come to pick me up?"

"Yes, Miss Swan. I have come to escort you on our first date. Your carriage awaits." He strolled casually around the car before opening the passenger door with a flourish.

"But I'm not dressed for anything like that," I stammered, looking down at my jeans and long sleeved tee. At least I had worn my stylish low-heeled boots rather than my usual Converse.

Edward stalked slowly over to me, his eyes intense and smoldering. He came so close that our chests were touching. His beautiful and enticing long fingers came up to stroke my cheek, his touch feather light and sensuous. I felt every nerve-ending zing to life as my body responded instantly to his proximity and caress.

"I don't know−you look pretty damn hot from where I'm standing."

_I think my brain just imploded._

His lips met mine in a kiss that sizzled with passion as I molded my body to his. I could feel the heat gather within me as my hands rose of their own volition to feverishly stroke his back. A stray song lyric fluttered across the remains of my consciousness.

_What a lovely way to burn!_

I could feel his lips quirk beneath mine as he smiled.

"I think we have given the residents enough of a show, Miss Swan. Shall we go?"

I couldn't find it within me to be embarrassed; I was still too blissed out by the feel of his lips on mine. I floated to the car, my legs slightly wobbly from the afterglow.

As I nestled into the soft leather seat, I let my head clear a little to take in the smooth lines of the classic car. I didn't know much about cars really, but I could value the beauty of one all the same.

"This is a really stunning car, Edward. Is it yours?" I asked.

"No, actually, it's Jaspers. I drive a Volvo, but I wanted something a bit more memorable for our first official outing. I couldn't find a spare horse and carriage, so I settled for the Mustang. Does it meet your approval?" he asked, throwing me another of his crooked smiles. The heat within me surged again, and I was sure he could tell by the pleased glint in his eye as he turned his attention back to the road.

"It's very striking. It suits you well," I replied, giving him a shy smile of my own. "So, where are we going?"

"It's a surprise. I couldn't make my mind up what you would like best, so we'll be going to two different places, if that's okay." His expression melted from confident to one of uncertainty as he spoke; clearly he was worried about my reaction. I impulsively reached out my hand, eager to make that look disappear, and rested it on his thigh.

"I'm touched you put so much thought into what I'd like. It's the company that is important, not the location."

He took one hand off the wheel to cover mine, giving it a gentle squeeze before his hand returned it to its former position. His self-satisfied look was back in full force.

As he drove toward the city, I remained clueless about where we could be going. I had never really taken in many of the local sights. Since I had lived there, I had only really travelled between school and work. I felt a thrill of anticipation, both about where he could be taking me, and being out−in public no less−with Edward.

Our trip ended as Edward drove the car into a parking garage, and holding my hand in his, we walked to the nearby Aquarium. I grinned like the giddy girl I was, almost bouncing in my excitement.

"I remembered all the fish on your shower curtain. I thought you might like to see the real thing," he explained, a slightly worried look on his face.

"It's was a wonderful idea! I've never been to an aquarium before." He seemed relieved but explained we only had a limited time as they closed in an hour. He grabbed an exhibit map and we pored over it together, deciding what to see first. We managed to see quite a few exhibits, including the handlers feeding the octopus. My favorite display was the otters. They were so playful and affectionate and had such personality. I could have watched them for hours.

All too soon, the PA system crackled to life, politely asking guests to hasten their departure. I quickly ducked into the gift shop as they prepared for closure, making a swift purchase so I would have a reminder of our visit while Edward was in the men's room.

When Edward returned, he cocked an eyebrow in question at my shopping bag, so I opened it wide so he could see my memento. He drew one of the items out, examining it with a puzzled expression.

"You brought…hamsters…with no innards?"

I snorted, whacking him lightly on the chest with my free hand.

"They're slippers! Otter slippers, to be exact. I thought they were so cute that I wanted to take a couple home. I don't think Esme would appreciate me dumping a pair in your pool, so these were the next best things. Every time I put them on, I'll remember our visit here."

The tips of his ears turned pink, and he placed a sweet kiss on my temple. Smiling, we strolled hand-in-hand back to the car. Well, I didn't stroll so much as shuffle. Although my gait had gotten a lot smoother with practice, I was still somewhat awkward when strapped into my leg brace. I couldn't wait until I was permanently free of it.

Once we were back in the car, Edward drove us across town to our next location. As he searched curb-side for a parking spot, I watched as people exited their cars nearby carrying blankets, cushions, coolers, and covered baskets.

_Some sort of group picnic then_, I thought.

Edward again opened the car door and helped me step out onto the sidewalk. He went to the trunk of the car, hauling out a red plaid woolen rug, a small collapsible cooler, and a picnic basket. I tried to offer to carry something, to which he firmly but politely declined. I followed as he walked toward a huge park which had large banners advertising a "Shakespeare in the Park" twilight performance.

"I saw you had lots of his works on your bookshelf, but you didn't have this one," Edward explained, once again stunning me with the amount of thought he had put into choosing activities he thought I might enjoy. "It's _As You Like It_. I brought supper so we can eat as we watch the show." He handed over tickets at the makeshift theater gate before carefully choosing a spot up the front so we would have a good view, but over to the side where we would not be so crowded in by other patrons. He meticulously spread the rug, ironing out creases with the flat of his hand, before helping me to sit. I stretched my splinted leg out straight, folding my other leg beneath me for balance. It was so beautiful there, circled by the rustling green curtain of the trees surrounding the large clearing, the evocative scent of recently cut grass and fresh air stimulating my senses.

I watched as Edward pulled out china plates, silverware, glasses, and linen napkins from the basket. It must have weighed a ton, packed as it was with a whole dinner service for two. From the cooler he drew out several Tupperware containers, asking my permission before placing baked chicken pieces, homemade potato and pasta salads on my plate, along with chunky slices of fragrant, doughy, homemade bread. My mouth watered at the sight, and I needed no further invitation to do the supper spread justice. We washed it all down with a crisp and sweet apple cider.

The show was fantastic, every emotion theatrically hammed up, just as good Shakespeare should be. I delighted in the language; it sounded so melodious and lyrical. I gaped at the costumes, some of which were ornate but others plain, which added to the sense of period and atmosphere. I was entranced, broken only from my rapt wonder by the feel of Edward slipping behind me, drawing me toward him so my back was resting against the hard planes of his chest. I lay my hands on his thighs, which now bracketed mine, enjoying the slight movement of his muscles bunching underneath my fingers and against my legs as his arms snaked around my waist. I was officially in Bella heaven.

When the show finished, we packed up together, and Edward folded up the cooler and stowed it in the basket before tucking me under his arm as we walked to the car. I felt a bit clumsy walking so close to Edward but did not want to pull away from the arm he had draped over my shoulder.

It had been a wonderful evening, and I told him so as we chatted about the characters and our favorite bits of the play. It had been nice to go out as a couple, like normal people, instead of a victim and an investigator, united by a horrific crime. We could leave that all behind and just be us, young and in love. At least I was in love; I couldn't speak for Edward. I knew he was somewhat gun-shy after his experiences with Nina, and I know he had to learn to trust again. I just hoped that I could help him with that in some way, if he let me.

As we drove back to the Cullen house, I struggled to keep up my end of the conversation, yawning after every second word. I fought against the weight of my eyelids as they drooped lethargically, making my vision waver and blur. In the end, I lost track of the thread of the conversation completely, drooping until inevitably I fell asleep.

I was dimly aware of being carried somewhere, surrounded by my favorite fragrance−warm man, cotton, and Edward. In my sleepy haze, I still managed to relish the feel of his soft t-shirt under my cheek. My last thought as I was placed on cool sheets was that I could get used to being cared for like this…


	29. Chapter 28

**Thank you to my beta's, Ragsstone and thalia_csiny. The more I learn, the more I realize I don't know. ****Thanks also to Bower_of_Bliss, my constant and consistent guardian angel.**

**Giraffelashes, I thought of you when I wrote this one. I hope you-know-what is more to your liking. If not, I'll enjoy chatting with you about it anyway :)**

**SMeyer wrote it all. I like playing pretend with her stuff.**

* * *

**Chapter 28**

_**Edward**_

Our first date was more successful than I could have hoped. I was forced to act sooner than I would have planned otherwise, making the most of my last day off to plan our outing. If I didn't make the effort, I would have to wait a whole four days before taking Bella somewhere. Any potential delay was simply unacceptable. After finally making the leap and finding she wanted the same things I did, I wanted to start the couple thing as soon as possible.

I began considering options after our talk on Sunday night. I wanted something fun and memorable, but in a comfortable setting. I had grown to hate the gaudy and pretentious company dinners I had felt obliged to escort Nina to, so dinner at some schmaltzy restaurant was out. Besides, I wanted Bella to relax and enjoy herself, too. I deliberated at length on which activities would prove suitable. Her apartment had given me a few clues, and I eventually narrowed my list of possibilities to two choices. In the end, I couldn't decide between them. I eventually arrived at the realization that if we did both, I would get to spend twice as long with Bella alone, which was all the incentive I needed.

I spent all day preparing before going to pick Bella up. I cooked and assembled everything we needed for our picnic. After hearing her rave about the wonders of home cooking, I wanted to make something I knew would please her and help set a nostalgic mood. I bartered with Jasper for the use of his baby−his precious 1968 Black Hornet Mustang. I ended up owing him two weeks' worth of cooked breakfasts, two car washes and a whole week doing his turn at trash duty. I sent a text to Alice to let her know of the change in plans, to which I received a garbled reply as she mashed the keys in her excitement while texting me back.

I also spent a lot of time viewing the layout of the park and the aquarium online. I wanted to make sure I knew where every entrance and exit was, as well as the location of anyone who could aid with security if the situation called for it. I plotted our drive there carefully, making sure to choose routes where it would be easy to spot if anyone attempted to tail us. I didn't tell Bella, but I also carried a gun in an ankle holster. Although I had never had the need to use it before, I wasn't going to take any chances. We hadn't spoken of her pursuer again, but I was very aware that he was still out there waiting for another opportunity to get to her. Aside from making sure everything was perfect, Bella's safety was at the forefront of my mind.

I knew the minute Bella walked out the door of the clinic, before I even heard the crunching of the gravel under her boots. The hitching of her breath, followed by a breathy sigh of appreciation, let me know she was not-so-subtly checking me out. When I turned around, I was struck anew by how effortlessly beautiful she was. She was dressed simply in loose jeans that hid her brace but still managed to highlight her curves. I admired the way they clung to her shapely hips, which were emphasized by a wide belt. She wore a red long-sleeved tee with a contrasting orangey color at the neck and hem. It had a draped neckline which clung gently to the swell of her breasts, and the snug fit accentuated her figure alluringly. Her lustrous hair fluttered in loose bouncy curls around her shoulders, just the way I liked best. I almost groaned on the spot as desire jolted through me hot and fast.

I would never grow sick of my instant reaction to her. I couldn't help myself after that. I allowed all my barely suppressed need for her to boil out of me in one ardent kiss, not caring about anything but the woman in my arms.

During our date, we talked, held hands, and snuggled. I remained in almost constant contact with her, reluctant to let her get too far away from me. I watched her every reaction, mesmerized by how animated and luminous she was in her sheer enjoyment of everything. As she leaned into me in the outdoor theatre, I drank in the sight of her. Her cheeks were a luscious shade of pink and tendrils of her hair fluttered around my face and chest, teased by the gentle breeze, fanning the subtle aroma of her toward me with its movement.

Then something amazing happened. That familiar pulling sensation in my chest swelled into impossible dimensions before erupting, releasing a torrent of new emotion and freeing a pressure I hadn't consciously been aware I had been holding on to. This new emotion was big, filling me with wonder and a sense of happiness and elation I had never felt before.

_Love… I _love_ Bella._

I sat there, stunned but exhilarated with the realization. Logically, I knew that such strong feelings often took time to develop and mature. Emotionally, though, my heart knew that this woman and what I felt for her was the real thing for me−the _only_ thing for me.

She was everything.

It wasn't just the want either; it was pure, scorching need. I needed Bella like air; like oxygen, she had become vital to my existence. She made me feel whole in a way no one ever had. It wasn't like I was missing something; it was just that she brought out the real me, enhanced all the best things already there, and filled a spot in my heart that had been waiting just for her.

When she fell asleep in the car, I watched her as much as was safe when driving. Mindful of her recent difficulties sleeping alone, I carried her to my loft. I pulled off her shoes and undid her brace, taking the time to stroke the silken skin of her scarred leg before tucking her up in my bed. I admitted to myself that I was secretly thrilled by the sight of her there, happy that I had found a woman I wanted to share such an intimate part of my home and life with. Leaving a small bedside light burning to hold back the dark, I ducked over to the main house to grab her bags so she could dress in fresh things in the morning, before pulling out and making up the sofa bed for myself. I fell asleep quickly, lulled by Bella's cute snuffling noises across the room.

I woke up close to midnight, disturbed by the sound of her thrashing, clearly in the throes of a nightmare. She was whimpering and clutching at the blankets. I stood helpless for a minute, unsure what to do or how to help her.

"Edhumph…" Her hand rose from where it had been desperately gripping the bedclothes as if searching for something that wasn't there.

I was galvanized into action by the garbled sound of my name. I stretched out on the bed next to her, pulling her into my embrace as I whispered soothing words. As her hand clutched at my undershirt, her thrashing settled before finally ceasing as she drifted back to a much more peaceful sleep. I moved only enough to retrieve the spare blanket draped over the end of the bed to cover myself. I didn't get under the covers with Bella, as I wasn't sure how she would feel on waking to find me unexpectedly in bed with her yet again, but this time without a remembered invite. I nuzzled into her hair, inhaling her intoxicating and unique scent, letting it lull me to sleep.

I woke in the morning to the pleasant sounds of Bella singing in the shower. I was pleased she had slept well and didn't seem upset after waking beside me again. When she came out of the bathroom, she crawled onto the bed to give me a kiss goodbye before leaving for the clinic. I invited her to stay in my loft indefinitely, since it seemed sleeping next to someone helped her get to sleep. I didn't want that someone to be anyone but me. That wasn't my only motivation, of course, but it sounded slightly more gentlemanly than merely asking her to shack up with me just because I liked seeing her in my bed. We made out like teenagers, unable to get enough of the feel and taste of each other now that we were at last free to do so. Eventually, Rose bashed on my door, threatening to come and drag Bella out. Bella left, laughing, her eyes sparkling as she joked around with Rose.

I lay in bed for a few minutes more, basking in the happy feelings left by our impromptu morning snuggle. Who knew snuggling could be so therapeutic? I felt like I could run up a mountain at the moment, overcome as I was by the spirit of invincibility.

When I finally got out of bed and headed for the shower, my bathroom swirled with leftover steam and the heady smell of my girl. As I stood under the stinging spray, I took myself in hand to relieve the almost painful hardness our make-out session had roused. I wondered if I should feel guilty about doing so, since I was, for all intents and purposes, now living with Bella. I wasn't sure how much experience she had with male anatomy and libido. I knew some people weren't comfortable with the idea of masturbation, but as I wanted to do the right thing by Bella, I would need some way of discouraging my hormones from overriding my good intentions. With that thought, desire won out and melted away any momentary considerations of guilt. With the recent image of her in my bed and her scent surrounding me, I surrendered to my irresistible craving for her as I imagined what being with her intimately would be like. As my orgasm crashed through me with speed and ferocity, I wondered how I was ever going to manage holding off touching her in that way long enough to give her the time she needed to be ready for such a step.

Everything about her ignited the need in me−something that was new to me, too. I had never felt such an all-consuming yearning for a woman before. I had felt lust, sure, but my desire for Bella reached beyond merely the physical. I felt connected to her on an emotional level, which heightened my physical desire for her exponentially.

My thoughts of her consumed me for most of the day, leaving me somewhat distracted. It was something I usually tried to avoid at all costs, and when I went to work that afternoon, I was reminded why.

"Hey, what's wrong with your face, Cullen?"

The oaf in front of me shattered my pleasant little daydream. I had been replaying every expression on Bella's face from last night and this morning, reliving her wonder and happiness.

"What?" I barked, making no effort to hide my irritation at his inane query.

"I _said_," emphasized Newton, as he leaned in closer and scanned my face with his hooded piggy eyes, "something's happened to your face. It looks different."

Newton had trouble keeping partners, and was often assigned to babysitting the green trainees still at the academy who came out for a taste of life on the beat. He had one with him today. He smacked the side of his head in an exaggerated manner, posturing for the benefit of his new flunky.

"I know what it is−you were smiling!" He cackled idiotically.

I snorted, internally sneering at his puerile attempt at humor.

"Yes, you were! I saw it. You get some recently or something?" Newton roared with laughter as he strutted over to the coffee machine.

Ignoring him, I picked up the newspaper I had dropped when my mind had wandered to thoughts of Bella before Newton had so rudely interrupted. I flicked it open again and pretended to read, drowning out Newton's brash voice as he began bragging to his new sidekick.

I returned to my reminiscing, every picture filled with Bella and our magical evening together, but Mike Newton's braying voice once again broke into my pleasant memories. He started recounting some of the more gruesome aspects of post mortem he had to attend the day before as the result of a murder scene he assisted at. He boasted for the benefit of the rookie, who looked slightly repulsed but fascinated.

Newton made it sound as if had attended hundreds of autopsies, but I knew for a fact that he dodged them as often as possible and had only attended a handful. It was a popular source of betting among other teams how soon he would vomit after the forensic pathologist started. The longest he had lasted was twenty minutes, and even then, he hadn't made it to the bathroom and disgraced himself by throwing up on his own shoes in the morgue's hallway.

I was instantly pissed off. It was bad form to talk so openly about an active investigation in the very public forum of the staff break room for a start, but to grandstand like this was also highly stupid and could get him disciplined. While we all "debriefed" about certain aspects of cases from time to time, most of us did so discretely, whispering over beers in the back of the local cop haunt, or in the privacy of a squad car with your partner. Newton was nothing if not stupid, though, and I often wondered how people like him made it on the force at all.

I almost got up to remind him where he was when something he said caught my notice, forcing me to pay closer attention to what he was saying.

"So the sawbones−that's cops-speak for the pathologist−says he thinks the girl died of blood loss. Anyone could see that since she was pale as a ghost, even where the fishies munched on her. He says he thinks the body didn't just bleed out; he thinks it was drained altogether. He kept going on about how little blood was left in the corpse at all. Then he says he thinks she was bitten, like on purpose or some shit. There were these expired areas where skin and stuff was cut away, and the sawbones thought the perp might have cut out the tooth marks." He gnashed his teeth together in illustration, and the rookie's expression got stuck on horrified, his fascination extinguished by the brutal reality of violent death.

I was confused for a minute as I went over what Newton had said.

_Excised, that's what the pathologist had said, not expired. _The perp had excised the bite marks.

Newton then went on about how he and another officer had visited the victim's family, and how her mother had told them a long rambling story as she cried, relating how smart she was and how she had just attended a holiday program at the State U for gifted children, and was also considered a violin prodigy. Newton was scornful of the mother's story, telling the rookie that the easiest way to become a saint was to die, since then everyone only had nice things to say about you. He was sure a girl that age was sure to be a stoner skank, banging every guy she met.

My gut feeling was that these details were important somehow. Using the safety of my prop newspaper as a cover, I folded it in half, pretending to read the bottom section so I could hold it in one hand. I got my notebook out of my pocket with the other and scrawled a few notes about what Newton had said. When Newton's anecdotes turned to which female staffer was the most likely to put out, I dropped the newspaper and went in search of Jasper.

I found him at our workstation, grappling with another endless pile of paperwork we were supposed to finish. I pulled up my chair as he turned toward me with a questioning look.

"Hey, Jazz, do you know what case that douche Newton was working on last? He was telling his latest rookie all about it," I said, my voice laced with quiet anger, not wanting anyone close by to overhear.

"Yeah, he and Tyler were first on the scene with that girl they pulled out of the water near Point Jefferson," he replied, confirming my growing suspicions. Flashbacks of a distraught woman screaming on the shore as her daughter was placed in the bottom of a waiting boat filled my head, causing an involuntary pang for anyone choosing to witness such a sight.

"Can you talk to some people and maybe get me a picture of the victim? Some of the things Newton said rang a bell with me. I think it may have some similarities with Bella's attack."

Jasper's eyes widened and he paled slightly. He nodded curtly and walked off in the direction of the elevators, probably heading to the detectives work area upstairs. I took his chair, scanning his abandoned task so I could work out where to pick up in his stead. Half an hour later, Jasper emerged from the stairwell with a manila file tucked under his arm. Within five minutes, we were in our squad car cruising around as I read through the file. As soon as I looked at the school picture of the victim, I knew my intuition had been correct.

She and Bella looked astonishingly alike, with the same long brown hair, same deep brown eyes and rosy lips. The differences were slight. The other girl's face was more oval than heart-shaped and her teenaged figure a little less defined than Bella's more womanly silhouette.

"Bree Tanner, aged sixteen. Disappeared two weeks ago when walking home from a friend's place. Some weekender out on his boat saw her body floating off Point Jefferson."

Bodies had been found there infrequently before. At nine hundred and thirty feet deep, the seemingly bottomless hole on the bed of the waterway there was the lowest point in the whole lake system. For those scheming enough and with the devious and dubious knowledge of how to correctly prepare a body, it would never surface from the depths again.

"Cause of death: exsanguination from multiple traumas of unknown source, since large areas of flesh were removed to obscure the point and mode of origin." I scanned over some of the background information.

"Parents describe her as studious and very shy, almost to the point of withdrawn. The only extra-curricular activity she participated in was playing the violin. An A-grade student all the way. She recently spent a week at the state university holiday science summit for advanced program students. The girl had only one close friend, with whom she had a sleepover the night before she disappeared. She left the home of Hayley Robbards at four in the afternoon to walk to her home three blocks away. Bree's parents phoned the police at eight p.m."

"So, Edward, tell me what makes you think this is related to what happened to Bella," Jasper asked.

I knew he saw the parallels, too, but wanted me to set them out logically so that we could convince others that they were real.

"They look so alike, it's almost eerie." The words rushed out before my brain had time to frame a more guarded statement. I cleared my throat and focused my thoughts.

"They have similar personality traits, both being smart but introverted. Both disappeared and were the victims of a frenzied attack. There is an element of blood play in both crimes, with Bree eventually succumbing to blood loss. Both victims had a connection to the university."

Jasper's expression was grave as he nodded, agreeing with my assessment.

"It isn't enough to mount a case for further resources, but it's a starting point at least. You know what this means, don't you?" His gaze was piercing as we looked at each other.

"Yeah. A shitload of work for us," I answered. "Work we'll have to do off the clock or quietly on the side."

We would need more proof to link these crimes, and if we found enough, the case would probably be handed to the detectives. It would take more than similar looks and a few coincidences to convince anyone else, though. We had already started checking into things at the university, such as whether any staff had a criminal record and any missing person reports relating to other students. Examining the student body was more problematic, though. There were over forty thousand students enrolled each year, and privacy laws blocked our access to potentially helpful records.

We sat in the car, brainstorming and strategizing how we would approach the mammoth task with just the two of us. We started lists in our notebooks, and Jasper promised to have a word with our sergeant, both to keep him in the loop and to gain some concession at the daily detail briefs so we would score a job load that would allow for our new sideline.

When we returned to the precinct, Jasper ducked upstairs to return the file while I started the endless round of phone calls and setting up interviews. I pored over case files on the ViCAP FBI database. The program was a national collection of cases such as homicides, sexual assaults, abductions and missing persons. Properly called the Violent Criminal Apprehension Program, this database could pull up cases sharing similar features and was used to compare parallels to identify potential serial killers.

Although the thought of a chase got my adrenaline flowing, I knew that in practical terms, this would dig into my time with Bella. However, since identifying and apprehending Bella's attacker would eliminate the threat his continued existence put her under, it would be worth the extra hours and effort.

Even though we had a long and potentially drawn out investigation ahead of us, I also felt a measure of relief. Finally, I had some way to direct my restless energy over the previous stasis of Bella's case. I had things to do and concrete action to immerse myself in. I only hoped it would lead us to our unknown perp soon. I knew it could potentially be a trip toward untold danger, since some killers kept tabs on investigations and directly targeted any officers involved, but this stalker needed to be stopped. It was almost as if I could feel the invisible clock ticking away, driving the vile culprit to act again and wearing away his slipping restraint. I was certain that he would strike again and would ruin the life of some other poor innocent. I fervently hoped we would be able to apprehend him before that happened.


	30. Chapter 29

**Thanks to Ragsstone, my primary beta, for her uplifting comments and news this week. Thanks also to Lyta7, who not only beta-ed but went back and read the whole story and even reviewed! Such a sweetie :) **

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**SMeyer owns the original characters. I just take them out to show them life on the other side.**

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**Chapter 29**

_**Bella**_

My training began in earnest on Tuesday night, immediately after the cozy dinner I shared in the kitchen with Alice, Emmett and Rose. Apparently, it was Emmett's turn to cook, so he threw together a quick but tasty stir fry. Alice told me that they had their own evening routine when the boys were at work. Carlisle often worked crazy long hours, and Esme was also busy with evening meetings and fundraisers for the foundation Carlisle had formed to raise money for their work overseas. They very rarely had meals together as a family during the week. As they often ate together, the three of them explained that they took turns cooking and clearing up after. It was nice sitting together around the table and sharing parts of our day. I couldn't remember having done that with anyone…well, ever. It was a great way to unwind, and I felt even more at ease, if that was even possible. These people were just so easy to be around.

Emmett clearly loved working with kids and had so many anecdotes about them that he kept us in stitches for some time. After we ate, Alice shooed me away since it was her turn to clear up. Rose instructed me to put on something comfortable for our session, so I went to change into sweatpants and a t-shirt.

It was with some trepidation that I entered the subterranean gym. It was huge and seemed twice the size of the kitchen above. The cinderblock walls were painted a soft yellow that reflected the light, which created a cheerful glow. One whole wall was mirrored from floor to ceiling, the optical illusion provided by the reflection doubling the vast space. Along with racks of weights and standard exercise equipment, a large area of padded vinyl mats took up the second half of the room. Rose had told me these were used for martial arts training as well as a boxing area.

Rose was waiting there in an outfit similar to what she wore on the weekend for supper. She was wearing heels, jeans with a stylish braided leather belt, and a tank with a short trench coat over the top. Over her shoulder she carried a large purse. She looked ready to hit the town for a night out, not work on self-defense. A door at the back of the room opened and Emmett shuffled out wearing a protective padded suit. I laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of his appearance. He looked like a multi-colored marshmallow.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up all you want. I want kids one day and Rose kicks like a…well, like a bitch," he explained, turning toward her quickly. "Sorry, babe, you know it's true," he said in a meek voice before making a kissy noise. "I'm just protecting the family jewels."

"Let's get started, shall we?" asked Rose, ignoring Emmett's air kisses. "Okay, Bella, the first step is to be aware of your surroundings. Try to pay attention to everything and everyone around you. Keep your eyes open and identify any potential threat. Make sure you know where all the exits are so you have a ready route out−a point of escape."

"It'll take some time to develop that," interjected Emmett. "It's a real skill scanning your environment without letting anyone catch you at it. You don't want to alert anyone to what you're doing. Always use the element of surprise to your advantage."

"Well, I was a girl scout for a while. Their motto is 'Be prepared' so I think I'll remember that step easily."

Emmett nodded emphatically. "Good, Bella. Use any strategy you can to make it easy to remember."

Rose held up two fingers. "The next step is if you sense a problem, be ready to run or defend. Be firm in your decision; don't panic and flap around because you'll just waste valuable time."

I nodded, beginning to feel a little apprehensive about actually having to take active measures in such a situation.

"There's no shame in running if you think you can make a clean get away. Kick off your shoes if you think they are going to trip you up," she said, pointing the toe of her sky-high stilettos. "It may hurt running on bare feet, but generally you won't feel it until after because of the adrenaline."

Rose made a point to look directly into my eyes with a fierce scowl as if to underline the importance of the next step. "_Never_ look like an easy target. Maintain eye contact and try not to look intimidated. An aggressor wants an easy mark and a quick take-down. If you look like you could make too much trouble, he or she may well back down."

My mouth and throat had dried to a parched desert, and I could feel my pulse start picking up pace.

"Use what you have around you−your environment. Make the most of objects you have on or with you−basically anything you have at hand." She held up her purse as an example. "Half of the everyday things in here can be used as makeshift weapons. We'll show you how to use them.

"Lastly," barked Rose, "practice, practice, practice!" She smacked the edge of one hand on the palm of the other as if to drill in her point with each utterance. "You need to make the moves instinctive. If you practice enough, it'll become second nature and in an attack you won't freeze up." Her voice had become icy with an edge of steel. With the scowl and intimidating voice, Rose looked like she could single-handedly fight an army.

Suddenly, the possibility of another attack and the thought of having to take offensive action seemed all too real.

Looking from Rose to Emmett, my apprehension increased to the point that my knees trembled. My heart thundered in my chest, and I began breathing erratically as a feeling of dread threatened to submerge me like a wave. I clutched a sweaty hand to my chest, recognizing that I was hyperventilating but seemingly powerless to stop it.

Emmett waddled toward me as quickly as he could, removing his padded helmet as he approached.

"Sit on the floor, Bella," he instructed me. Pushing my head between my knees, he talked me through how to regulate my breathing to counter my panic attack. He asked Rose to get me some water, and she quickly disappeared up the stairs. Somehow, he managed to sit next to me, the suit impeding his movement as his legs stuck out at an awkward angle in front of him.

"I know this must be pretty daunting for you," Emmett acknowledged. "Thinking about actually doing all this stuff must bring back some of those scary feelings after everything that you've been through." He made no move to touch me, but his calm presence and tone were enough to help distract me from my anxiety.

"Why is doing this important for you?" he asked, looking at me as if searching for something.

"I don't want to be a victim anymore," I wheezed out. "I want to have a better chance, a fighting chance, if he comes back for me again," I added, slightly ashamed at how much my voice shook. I made an effort to steady myself and to show him that I really did want to try. "I've got a life now, or at least the beginnings of one. I want to be around to enjoy it."

"I know it's a bit intimidating, coming down here and being faced with the physical reality of what you might need to do. You need to be in the right head space for it. Are you ready for that?" he asked, his voice serious and yet kind as he continued scanning my face for the answer.

_Am I? Am I really ready to take this step?_

I thought back to how I felt in my apartment when I had realized that someone had been watching me. I reached for that sense of anger and how infuriated I had felt about my home and privacy being violated. My panic dissipated quickly and was replaced by resolve. Yes, I was ready for this−I _needed_ to do this. Although I had friends now, even though I had Edward, I still needed to be able to protect myself if−God forbid−I ever found myself in danger again. I took a deep, fortifying breath and stood up, straightening my spine and finding the necessary sense of defiance that would help me through this. I put out my hand to help Emmett off the floor.

"Thanks for talking me off the ledge, Emmett. I'm ready whenever you are."

Rose clattered down the wooden stairs and hurried over with a bottle of water. I thanked her, taking a long slug to wash away the dryness caused by my panic attack. I nodded that I was ready and so my lesson began in earnest.

Rose started pulling items out of her purse, describing how each could be used.

"Ball point," she stated, holding up an ordinary Bic pen. "They can be useful for stabbing, poking, and snagging soft tissue. Go for the throat or the eyes; it hurts like hell and scares 'em bad. Under the arms or behind the knee is also good because it's so sensitive, and often attackers fail to protect these areas. They look out for their balls and forget everything else," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Keys are also good for gouging, stabbing or slashing, especially since they have all those rough edges. Go for the eyes and exposed skin," she lectured, demonstrating the key hold and technique on a passive Emmett.

"Nail files are good for stabbing and gouging, too," Rose declared, pulling out a metal file complete with pointy end. "Go for the big muscles like the thigh. It can lodge there, causing significant pain and impairing their ability to chase after you."

Next, she pulled out a plastic rectangle, almost like a blank credit card. "You can sharpen the edge of a credit card so it can become a cutting implement. Very useful for slashing, too," she said, demonstrating the slashing technique as Emmett just stood there, taking it all.

"Hairspray," she stated, pulling an aerosol can out of the bottomless purse. "Deodorant also works. It can sting and blind when sprayed in the eyes. You can use some sprays as a flame thrower if you have a lighter and ignite the spray stream. You have to be careful that you don't accidentally set yourself on fire too, though."

My head was reeling. Who knew all this stuff could be used this way?

"Projectiles!" she declared. "My personal favorite. You ready, babe?" she asked Emmett.

He waddled over to a small pile of items near the wall, pulling out and putting on a pair of safety goggles before coming back over to us but standing a little farther away than previously. Facing him again, Rose started pulling out more items and pelting Emmett with them.

"Coins, phone, camera, and soda cans." With the retrieval of each item from her bag or jacket pockets, her words were punctuated by the thwacking sounds of things hitting Emmett's padded chest and shoulders. "Whatever you have, you can throw." She took off her heels, throwing one, before charging toward Emmett. With vicious ferocity, she whacked him around the head with her shoe, before using the spike heel to jab at his midsection and protected face. Emmett just laughed as if Rose was merely tickling him.

"As well as projectiles, we have things you can use as a club." Rose drew a magazine out of the bag, rolling it into a tube with a practiced motion and smacking Emmett soundly around his helmeted ears with it, before aiming a couple of firm pokes at his chest.

"Then you have the bag itself. They get heavy with all the crap most girls carry." Rose swung the bag with both hands, hitting Emmett so hard that he literally rocked on his heels with the forceful contact. "Just think; if this was your school bag, you'd have a laptop or maybe some heavy books in there, too. That would add a few more pounds of force."

"I love it when you swing like that, baby! You look _so hot!"_ Emmett purred. Rose smiled and patted him on the shoulder affectionately.

"You've also got other concealed items at your disposal, like the lipstick pepper spray you bought. Oh, and we should try out the stun gun you bought, too. It's okay, Em. I promise we won't use you to practice with that," Rose reassured him.

"You should make sure you can move easily in whatever you wear, and choose shoes that give you traction and stability. Go with clothes that have pockets. Pockets can hold a lot of small items, like a key ring light and other stuff, in case your assailant gets your bag off you."

Rose dropped the purse on the floor and took off her belt. "Now we'll show you how to block an attack with things like your belt or bag, and how to use them as a defensive weapon as well."

For the next hour, they again demonstrated how to use things, before I then had a try. We went over everything repeatedly until I was sweaty and red-faced with exertion. Rose also showed me how to break a choke hold from behind, before finally calling it a night. I was exhausted and achy, but I felt satisfied that I had at least made a proactive start at protecting myself. As Rose helped Emmett strip off his suit, I said my thanks and goodnights, promising to return to practice and go over other techniques tomorrow evening.

I went over to Edward's loft, still feeling a little odd about being there without him. There was no doubt I drew a considerable amount of comfort from just being in his space, but I was still trying to get used to being in the Cullens' home, let alone Edward's room. I felt both touched and honored that they accepted the boys just bringing me home as they had, without any sort of reticence or question. I knew that they had never done this before me; it was Edward's growing concern and apparent attachment to me that had made all the difference.

Everything still felt surreal at times. My life had changed so drastically in such a short span of time. I felt so different from that shy, introverted girl I had been until so recently. I had been lonely and alone. Although I was currently displaced and still felt under threat, I had been taken in, cared for and had unexpectedly found love.

I wondered if I should feel some sense of alarm at the fact that our relationship had blossomed so fast and progressed to the point that we had shared the same bed twice already. Edward had even invited me to share it every night−an offer I accepted with gratitude and eagerness. I thought about this for a while, trying to view it as an outsider would. In the end, I gave the notion up as a wasted exercise. I had spent the last few years avoiding things, especially forming relationships with others. I had missed out on so many things through my own misguided fears. If my recent near-death experience had taught me anything, it was that I needed to embrace life, not avoid it, fear it, or worry about what other people thought.

Besides, I knew there were lots of people who had sex before they even had a relationship, or who skipped the whole relationship thing altogether for casual hook-ups. I was definitely not that type of person, as I had made clear to Edward that night back in my apartment. I loved the feeling of closeness and connection that Edward and I shared. Although the sex thing was certainly something that I was looking forward to, I was glad we had developed that bond first. He made me feel content; I felt safe in his presence since I trusted him so completely. I didn't know if I could have ever allowed someone else the freedom to touch me both emotionally and physically unless I felt that way about them.

I slipped off my clothes before pulling on my pajamas and crawled under the covers of Edward's bed with a blissful sigh. As I inhaled the scent of him wafting from his pillows, I closed my eyes, remembering the sensations that coursed through me as he'd kissed and held me this morning. His hands had roamed all over my back as his tongue entwined with mine, our bodies so close that I had felt the thud of his heart through my chest. Although it had been hot and passionate, I had sensed that he was holding himself back from me and was trying to be careful and not push things too far too soon. As I'd felt the heat rise within me at the memory of his touch and kiss, my nipples throbbed along with certain other parts of me, and I'd wondered what it would be like when he finally touched me in that way. I so wanted him to touch me that I literally ached for it, even in his absence. I wished I knew what I was doing, and how to let him know I wanted more and I wasn't breakable. I wasn't scared of the next step. I craved it−craved him so much that I lost all sense of supposed propriety when I thought of it.

_Oh yes, I'm ready alright._ The only problem was how to convince Edward…


	31. Chapter 30

**Thank you to Ragsstone and ShowtunesJesus, my lovely beta-ing team. **

**The TwiGirls Next Door featured this story in their "What we are reading" section . Thank you Luvrofink for the shout out and lovely review. If you found your way from there, welcome!**

**Warning: This fic is rated as suitable for readers 18 years and over. Please don't tell me if you shouldn't be reading.**

**Smeyer owns Twilight and a vampire baby called Renesmee. I actually prefer Allen, the vampire baby from "Dick and Dom."**

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**Chapter 30**

_**Bella**_

I settled contentedly into the easy rhythm of life in the Cullen household. I had breakfast every morning with Edward before heading to the clinic. Every evening I had dinner with Alice, Emmett and Rose, and I had even taken a turn cooking and clearing up. I found it was a great way to decompress after the day, and I began to crave their playful banter and good company almost as much as Edward's.

When Edward was working, I spent my evenings training in the basement as I practiced wielding make-shift weapons and learning all sorts of defensive moves. Emmett and Rose were also teaching me some kung fu, as apparently the stylized "forms" were a great way to learn helpful defensive moves in a meditative manner. Emmett favored kung fu over other martial arts as he felt it used the whole body most efficiently, rather than just relying on mostly upper body moves, as karate did. He promised that if I did well with those, he would add some traditional weapons training using broomsticks before moving onto knives.

Every night, I slept in Edwards's bed, occasionally rousing briefly when he got home from work. He always kissed me goodnight before he slipped into his own nest of blankets on the sofa-bed. Every morning, though, I woke up to find him either lying next to me or curled around me.

_My nightmares must still be disturbing him_, I thought with a pang of guilt. I don't know how he functioned on so little sleep. He and Jasper rarely got home before midnight, yet he was up every morning at seven to eat with me and share what limited precious time we had together before we had to separate for the day.

During his first full weekend off since I moved in, we spent almost all of it figuratively glued together at the hip.

On Saturday, we went to a movie and then to an exotic and colorful Indian restaurant tucked away in an otherwise forgettable back street of town. The shop front was very unassuming, and until we walked through the door it was nearly impossible to know what delights were hidden there. The mouth-watering aroma of spices and curry enveloped us the minute we passed through the beaded curtain. I enjoyed tasting everything from the banquet we ordered, especially those morsels Edward fed to me with his enticing fingers. I couldn't help but tease him a little, deliberately capturing his fingers with my eager lips and tongue. I didn't know where this wanton side of me came from, but I was enjoying trying out my newfound power and watching its effect on Edward. He flushed, stuttered, and squirmed through the whole meal, but my forward behavior didn't stop him giving me samples off his plate.

On Sunday afternoon, we joined Alice, Jasper, Emmett, and Rose at the local bowling alley. I hadn't laughed so much in what felt like forever, as the antics of the others kept me more entertained than learning to bowl. My efforts to keep the ball out of the gutter proved woefully inadequate. Edward took pity on me and attempted to show me how to improve my aim. His body cozying up to mine as he leaned over me to show me how to throw better proved too much of a distraction, though. All I could think about was the feel of him against me, my private imaginings absorbing me so I had no concentration to spare.

Later that evening, I forgot my reticence of the previous week and thoroughly enjoyed Sunday supper. It was Esme's menu choice, and everyone praised the succulent Beef Wellington.

I was growing to like this family more and more and felt totally at home in their company.

Things between Edward and me were wonderful as we grew closer and learned more about each other, and I walked around in an almost total state of bliss. My happiness, however, was being intruded upon by my increasing feelings of frustration. Although we kissed, cuddled, and held hands all the time, when things got any more heated, Edward would pull away or deliberately tone things down. His hands never strayed and went only as far as the outside swell of my breast or halted just above the curve of my ass.

It was maddening.

When I tried to tell him that I was happy for things to move along, he deflected the conversation or distracted me in other ways, reassuring me that he was in no rush and was enjoying our "together time" without the pressure of more.

I started to think I was going to have to step up my efforts. Having never been faced with this situation before, I had no idea how to start a campaign of seduction. I didn't think of myself as an innately sexy person at all. Although I had desires, I felt clueless when it came to achieving them.

I had seen plenty of movie and real life examples of girls who dressed and acted in ways that had men falling at their feet in droves. I wanted to be like that−seemingly carefree and vivacious, just like those girls who were confident in their power, although I only wanted to tempt one man. Those women had personality and presence, and they knew how to enhance it and announce it.

I wasn't like that at all. I had been used to hiding and camouflaging, and I had constantly attempted to evade notice in the past. Although I no longer went to extremes behaving that way, it was still taking me time to adjust to the more relaxed version of myself.

After worrying about it so much, I decided that it had gotten to the point where I needed to stop thinking about it and try just to enjoy feeling and experiencing things instead. I endeavored to let it go for a while and see what evolved during our next weekend together.

Edward and Jasper ended up working five days straight instead of their usual four day rotation. Apparently, they were busy gathering information that might be linked with my case. When another team asked to swap days, they agreed as it gave them more of the working week to fish for and follow up on leads. Edward apologized for his distraction at times and explained that although the progress was slow, they had made some headway. Unfortunately, he couldn't share what they had uncovered as their investigation was still considered to be in its preliminary stages, and also because of confidentiality reasons.

Looking forward to having Edward for two whole days before he had to work again, I woke a little after eight on Saturday and enjoyed the luxury of sleeping in.

I took a minute to savor the exquisite comfort and security of lying in bed next to my handsome…

What exactly was Edward? It still felt too new and large to be calling him my boyfriend. It was too formal, yet slightly immature sounding. It seemed ridiculous to think this way after we had slept in the same bed every night for the past week.

I went back to my silent appreciation of my man as he lay facing me, still fast asleep. He was just so striking and manly. I could happily spend hours memorizing every individual freckle and feature. Since I had actively avoided my mom's boyfriends and had only hazy memories of my dad, I had never had the opportunity to be so close to a male before.

_And, oh boy, is Edward the perfect specimen of manhood! _

He lay sprawled on his half of the bed, the covers thrown off and bunched into a pile in the middle between us. I pushed them down off the end of the mattress with my feet so I could have an unhampered view of his uncovered body.

Edward's hair was beautifully tousled on top, and I ran my hands through the clipped sides above his ears and down through his short sideburns, enjoying the almost bristly feel of it against my sensitive fingertips.

I moved onto his thick eyebrows, tracing them lightly with my finger and trying to avoid waking him. I marveled at the difference in texture; the hair there was slightly coarser than the silky locks on top of his head. Men's eyebrows were so different, too. The bony ridges defining their shape underneath were so much more prominent than my own. Although slightly bushy, Edward's were beautifully shaped, and I wondered silently if he was into manscaping. His eyelashes were longer and thicker than any man's had a right to be.

When viewed from the side, his cheekbones had an almost flattened appearance, which should have been odd, but when framed by his other features, it made him appear even more arresting. His nose was slightly thick with a noticeable bump in the middle. I wondered if he had broken it in the past. I liked the way it added character to his features and how it made him look slightly rakish.

I admired Edward's mouth with his wide, full, and slightly pouty lips. I especially liked the way they felt on mine and constantly fantasized how they would feel on other parts of me, too. I softly traced the line of his chiseled jaw, covered in the usual light scruff of stubble, again imagining how it would feel if he rubbed it against my sensitive skin. I could sense the heat build within me at the thought.

His chest was bare. It was the first time I had seen it that way. It had been unseasonably warm the previous night, enough that I had chosen a pair of sleep shorts and a tank myself. Either that or he had just been extra tired last night and had stripped down to just his boxer briefs before crawling into bed. Usually, he wore an undershirt and sleep pants. I could see every inch of his skin, and the definition of his sculpted chest and arm muscles made me slightly breathless. My fingers itched to play with the sparse reddish-brown hair that curled in the hollow between his pecks. From his chest, the hair ran in a delightful little line down over his taut abdominal muscles, before disappearing into the elastic waist band of his briefs where they hung low on his hips.

I think I was officially in love with boxer briefs. Edward's were a plain navy color but clingy, clearly outlining his maleness as it protruded enticingly out front for my inquisitive gaze. I admired the way the dark material hugged the top of his muscled thighs and my breath hitched further at the sight. I was fascinated with his obvious virility and desperately curious to see inside those briefs. I toyed with the idea of gently lifting the band to take a peek, before coming to my somewhat addled senses.

If he were to wake while I was checking him out, I would surely die of embarrassment.

No, I liked my somewhat sinful but private ogling just fine for now. I needed this uninterrupted time to become familiar with how he looked and felt.

_Maybe I could hop off the bed and go around the other side for an eyeful of his rear view instead?_ _I bet those briefs cling to his ass in the most delicious way._

Instead, I contented myself lightly stroking the dusting of hair on his thighs, enjoying the ticklish feeling of the soft hair contrasting with the firmness of the muscle underneath.

Clearly, Edward took care of his body and worked out. I knew he spent time in the gym or running every day. I could almost feel the coiled strength currently slumbering away under my roaming hands. I loved the way his skin felt under my palm, especially the hairless area of the flank of his thigh where the daily rubbing of his pants must stop the hair from growing. I loved the different sensation between hair and bare, warm skin.

I finished my perusal by sweeping my hungry gaze over the curves of his thigh and calf, then down to his feet. His feet were pale and long, the tendons prominent as they led to his toes, which were also long like his fingers. The top of his feet and toes also had little patches of darker hair, which I found funny for some reason.

Men were such different creatures to look at, but my unhurried exploration of Edward's body made me appreciate and revere those distinctions all the same. He truly was beautiful, and looking at him made me feel tingly and hot in all sorts of places.

I couldn't help myself any longer, so I wriggled closer, thankful I was less covered than usual. I pressed myself full-length along Edward's body, desperate to feel as much of his skin against mine as I could. I sighed in contentment with the feel of his warmth as it caressed me. I gently draped my arm over his back, stroking nonsensical patterns up and down his smooth skin as I lay my cheek against the firm expanse of his chest. He snuggled closer to me, a humming noise vibrating through his chest as he nuzzled my hair.

I could felt his heat radiating against my stomach as he became increasingly firmer, until eventually his erection was prominently obvious, trapped as it was between us. That was yet another fascinating and mysterious manifestation of his maleness. I wondered if it was an unconscious response to my proximity and how I could encourage it and tempt him to lose his carefully maintained self-control. I decided to stick with my plan of feeling rather than thinking, and I gradually moved my hands down his back until I got to the top of his buttocks. Hesitantly, using just the tips of my growing nails, I raked my fingertips over the roundness of his butt cheeks, relishing the way they contracted under my touch as his hips reflexively pushed into mine. Edward groaned a low, slightly croaky sound, his voice rough from lack of use.

"I'd like to say it's just morning wood, Bella, but you're torturing me," he rasped out.

I kept up my attentions, pleased by the effect I was having on him.

"Morning wood? What's that?" I asked quietly.

Edward barked a surprised laugh before explaining the mysterious mechanics of the male body, additionally describing how a full bladder was supposed to enhance female orgasm also.

I listened, engrossed. Having never had female friends, I had missed the opportunity of an informal but more graphic education than that provided back in high school. Sex-ed had covered puberty, intercourse, and a plethora of contraceptive advice, but nothing as practical as that. I wondered what other things I was ignorant of.

"So, you like it when I do this?" I asked shyly and resumed my light scratching over his butt cheeks.

"Mmm," Edward hummed again, punctuating the noise with another jerk of his hips. "We should probably stop before…things get out of hand."

"But I don't want to stop," I murmured, giving his cheeks a playful squeeze. "I like the way you feel under my hands."

His arm reached over to rest on my thigh as he wriggled down so we were nose to nose. His eyes were the green of moss as they smoldered, burning into mine. I loved it when he looked at me this way−as if he saw every hidden thought and emotion, and as if he saw my very essence.

He began to languidly stroke my skin, setting off that welcome sensation of electric current buzzing through my body.

"I like the way you feel, too. Your skin is so soft; it's like satin. It's so nice being close like this. Are you sure you're okay with it?" he asked, concern etched into his features.

"I need to touch you, Edward. I want to get to know you before we…go further. I want to know _all_ of you. I promise I'll tell you if it gets too much. Now hush up and just enjoy." I smiled, reassuring him that this was what I wanted.

He chastely kissed my lips, muttering an apology for his morning breath before placing hot open-mouthed kisses along my jaw and down my neck. I could feel my nipples tighten under the thin material of my tank top as I leaned my head back to allow him more access. I sighed in blissful appreciation as the tight buds brushed against his chest when my own torso inadvertently thrust out with the minute change in position. I snaked my hand across his butt to the outside of his thigh, wanting to touch him more but not sure how to initiate contact.

The minute Edward's tongue touched my bare skin, the buzzing current I felt became a raging inferno, burning hot trails from the point of contact all the way through me. I gasped at the overwhelming sensation, needing to be closer still. As if in silent response to my growing need, Edward hitched my leg over his. I sighed as I felt the heat and slight pulsing of his erection just where my body was crying out for it the most. My eyes closed, and I was awash with thrilling sensations, overloaded by the sensory input, surrounded as I was by Edward−_all_ of Edward.

His hand moved around to the back of my bent leg before roaming upward, lazily stroking the edge of my shorts. Finally, his fingers ventured tentatively a little higher until they were under the hem. My hips bucked into his as I felt a tightening inside, right where I wanted Edward to be. His fingers inched slowly and inexorably around to the inside of my thigh, closer and closer to where I was beginning to ache for his touch. I could feel my fingers squeezing Edwards's thigh, an almost involuntary reaction to the growing desire and tension building within me. With a responding hiss of pleasure, Edward's skillful fingers gently brushed against my slick folds from behind, and a strangled sound emerged unbidden from my throat. My hands flew back to his buttocks in a desperate attempt to bring him closer still, needing further contact right where the building tightness was tormenting me.

As Edward's fingers passed sensuously backward and forward in search of something, he ground himself against me, giving me exactly what I needed where I wanted it most. I raised my leg higher, my body reacting instinctively to meet him thrust for thrust, as our bodies became slick with a light sheen of sweat. I could feel the heat and increasing dampness through the thin layers of material between us as his pulsing rigidness moved rhythmically along the outside of me with each jerk of his hips. When his fingers brushed my clitoris I moaned loudly, too overcome by the ripples of pleasure from the combined onslaught of his skillful fingers and his seeking erection to be embarrassed by my own uncontrolled sounds.

"That's it, gorgeous! Let me hear you."

I opened my eyes to be met by Edward's intense stare, his smile wide and victorious. I could only pant in response. Edward moved the arm trapped beneath his body, pushing up my tank top until he cupped the outside of my breast, before he moved to gently roll my bared nipple between his fingers.

I had never felt such abundance of sensation at once and in so many places. As one hand toyed with my nipple, the other played in the slipperiness of my increasing arousal as he continued to circle and pass over my clit. The ripples of pleasure escalated until suddenly and unexpectedly, I was exploding, as the spasms of my first orgasm made me arch further into Edward's embrace.

When my dazzled vision cleared and I came down from my climax high, I regained some awareness of my surroundings.

Edward's breathing was harsh in my ear as he panted in time with the thrusting of his hips, grinding into the still sensitive flesh between my legs. His hands were now both on my hips as they anchored me to him. My nails dug into the firm but yielding ripeness of his ass as if to further tether me to him, and I felt the clenching of his muscles beneath the stretchy material as he moved against me. Edward's eyes clenched tightly shut as he neared his own release. I watched, enthralled by the sight of his face altered so in the heat of his pleasure and passion. He threw his head back, and his neck corded with pent-up strain. His movements became increasing jerky and spasmodic, until finally, with a last drawn out and incredibly sexy groan, he thrust into me once, twice forcefully, before stilling. We both lay there for a minute catching our breath, his eyes still closed but more relaxed and mine still trained on him, spellbound by the whole erotic encounter.

After a few minutes, he gently released me, rolling onto his back with his hands resting on his stomach.

"Wow," I exclaimed softly. "That was…if that's what it's like with our clothes on, I can't wait to see what it's like when we get them off." I laughed, taking in Edward's quietly stunned smile as I readjusted my rucked and rumpled attire.

"I think you'll kill me with your hotness when that happens, Bella." He tenderly stroked along my jaw. "I liked fooling around with you," he whispered before gathering me up again in his arms for a crushing hug. I wrapped my arms around his waist, returning the bone-crunching pressure as much as I could. When he released me, we lay in languid contentment side by side for a while, quietly contemplating what had just happened.

I felt so much emotion for this man, the feeling so intense at that moment that I just wanted to turn to him and blurt out how much I loved him. Yet even after the intimacy we just shared, I felt too self-conscious to voice my declaration. So I just lay there, my hand creeping out again in search of the reassurance his skin provided, until at last I came in contact with his bare thigh. Soothed by the connection, I sighed in satisfaction and felt his hand reach down to twine with mine.

Edward turned onto his side again with a rustle of sheets, and I turned to look into his searing gaze. His fingers came up to trace a lazy path along the outside of my mouth before he bent his face to mine to kiss me softly.

"I don't know if this is the right time or the right way, or if it's too soon. I can't help it, though. I _have_ to tell you. I love you, Bella," he whispered lowly. "So, so much."

I stared into his eyes again, my expression frozen by shock and elation. My heart swelled in my chest as tears blurred my eyes.

"I love you too, Edward. More than you'll ever know."


	32. Chapter 31

**Thanks to my wonderful beta team of ShowtunesJesus and Ragsstone. Their input makes this all so much better :)**

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**SMeyer owns the original Twiconcepts. I'm kind of grateful to her. Twilight has introduced me to so many new things and friends besides the books themselves. **

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**Chapter 31**

_**Edward**_

I was having a great weekend so far−the best I could remember in a long time. It started with waking up to the feel of miles of glorious skin pressed against me. Bella was…frisky, for want of a better word. She batted away all my hesitation with her determination before obliterating all thought of resistance with her caresses. Her touch both worshipped and incited me; with the maddened combination of innocence and unabashed curiosity, Bella was both sexy and tempting without even trying. I couldn't restrain myself, and what was more−I didn't want to. When she urged me to enjoy myself, I stopped thinking about why it had seemed like a good idea to wait. I simply let myself go and made the most of the opportunity to explore with her. What followed was the most erotic experience I had ever had without actually having sex.

I had experimented a bit as a teenager, but back then I had been fuelled and ruled by my rampant hormones. It had all been about passing the bases rather than whom I was doing it with. I had felt something for those few all-too-willing girls, sure, but it was a mere shadow of how I felt about Bella. I had been attracted to them, but my feelings for Bella were more than just temptation and appeal on a physical level.

I could never get enough of her and couldn't get close enough to satisfy the yearning I had to be with her. I felt close to bursting with my feelings for her, and finally, it was just too much to contain.

I uttered those three words I had never said to anyone outside of my family.

It didn't matter to me in that moment if she wouldn't reply likewise. I didn't say them in the hope of hearing her return the sentiment. When she did, though, I felt my happiness soar.

We spent the whole day together. Knowing that she was interested in art, I suggested we visit the art museum. Bella agreed with enthusiasm, having never been there either. For someone who had travelled the country and lived in the city for close to three years, she had seen relatively few of its major attractions. She had been particularly entranced with their new display about the Quileute wolves and the traditions of the native people, explaining that their reservation was close to where she had lived before her father died. I didn't care what we saw; Bella was the most captivating show I ever had the pleasure of indulging in−and I indulged often.

I worried every time we went out, apprehensive about the possibility of running into someone I knew from work. Despite my inability to resist the attraction between us, I was still very much aware that our relationship would be actively discouraged. If we were outed, I would be removed from her case at the very least. I tried hard not to think about the consequences of the worst case scenario. Jasper was the only other person from our precinct who knew we had taken Bella in, and since it had been his suggestion, I was sure he wouldn't be telling anyone anytime soon. I took my job seriously and had always thought of myself as highly ethical, so my conscience pricked me fiercely.

Thoughts of her pursuer had precedence over all other considerations, and I dealt with the unease and uncertainty of it all by planning everything methodically: the activity, the location, and the route. It was all very time-consuming, especially as I didn't want to alarm or burden Bella with my obsessive security-consciousness. Still, it was worth it to see her face light up every time we did something she hadn't experienced before.

We went out for dinner again, and I deliberately chose a Spanish Tapas restaurant so I could have a repeat of last week's adventures of feeding Bella. Although I'd had a tortuous case of blue balls after, it was worth it to feel her lips around my fingers and to see the erotic play of her tongue licking things from her kissable lips. I hardened at the memory; after a morning of dry humping and an evening of oral foreplay, my vow to take things slowly was crumbling rapidly. Besides, Bella seemed more than willing to take things further, and I couldn't deny that I was more than eager to make her mine in every way.

I was a little nervous, though, if I were being brutally honest with myself. I knew people assumed that men thought taking a girl's virginity was like some sort of holy grail of sexual experiences. Although I was secretly delighted that I would be her first, it came with a heavy sense of responsibility. I knew it would be painful to some degree for her, and that she would be unlikely to climax through sex that way. I didn't want to be the cause of any sort of pain for her.

At least I knew I could give her an orgasm. I had been both surprised and smug that she had responded so quickly and freely the day before. The sound of her in the throes was my new favorite memory−for now, anyway. I wanted our first time together to be memorable for her for all the right reasons, and for it to be more about her sharing her virginity than me "taking" it. I was beginning to worry the strain of it all would lead to performance anxiety.

I considered how much was expected from men when it came to the opposite sex. We were expected to make the first move in a polite and interested way, without appearing too eager, desperate, or horny. Rightly or wrongly, many considered it a man's job to do the chasing. We were expected to take the lead to some extent in initiating sexual contact, again showing our respect and appreciation for the woman without being too impatient, quick, or lust-mad. We had to be considerate and take care of her needs while holding off the fickle plans of our own anatomy. At least, that was how I thought it was supposed to go, traditionally anyway. Just when some of us clueless men were getting a handle on the unspoken etiquette, the rules changed again, and women were encouraged to be more demanding and to take a more active part. Some women were positively aggressive, and many men found that very intimidating. It could all be very confusing and anxiety-provoking, and I had certainly felt the pressure in the past.

Nina had been more of the manipulating kind than the openly aggressive sort, except for the night she came over and spoiled our supper in a last ditch attempt to make me see the light. All it had done was make me declare my feelings for Bella−a move which led to our first kiss.

Somehow, Bella never made me feel like I had to jump through hoops to do the right thing for her.

I whistled as I got into the shower to wash off the grime and rank sweat that coated my skin from my morning run. After I finished, I dried off and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt before going in search of Bella. She had made a vague mention of doing something with Jasper this morning while I went on my run.

As I left my loft and jogged down the stairs, voices emerged from the open doors of the garage below.

"Now, I hope you are aware of the enormous honor you have, being able to touch my most prized possession like that." It was Jasper's voice, echoing slightly as it bounced off the bare concrete walls. Our garage was big enough to comfortably house six cars.

"Don't be such a baby, Jasper," teased Bella, her voice somewhat muffled. "I like it too much to do it any damage. Just move over a little, would you? I can't get it in at that angle."

I walked through the open doorway to see the sight of Bella's backside sticking out of an open car door at a distracting angle. I could see Jasper's head through the rear window as he sat in the driver's seat of his Mustang.

"Don't worry too much about how it looks. You need to learn to do it by feel, just in case you're doing it in the dark," Jasper explained patiently.

My mouth twisted in anger as I stalked toward the car.

"Jasper, what the hell do you think you're doing with my girlfriend?" I stormed, sticking my head through the open passenger window to glower at him.

"Oh, boy." Jasper groaned. "Watch out, Bella. I told you Edward was going to blow when he found out!" He beat his head against the padded headrest behind him.

Bella bolted upright, narrowly missing hitting her head on the doorframe.

"It's not what you think, Edward. Let me explain," she pleaded before biting her lip.

"Oh, it's okay, Bella. I know _exactly_ what's going on here," I said, a red haze clouding my vision. I turned my attention back to Jasper.

"You're corrupting my girlfriend! How dare you teach her how to hot wire a car? I just bet you taught her your other tricks, too, right? The lock picking, the handcuff escape−I'm right, aren't I?" I looked from one guilty face to the other and needed no other confirmation. I could feel my muscles bunch and tighten with strain, and my hands fisted at my side.

"I'm sorry, Edward," Bella said in a small voice. "It's really my fault. I asked him to when the girls told me he knew how. I didn't think you'd feel so strongly about it."

"Of course I feel strongly about you learning criminal tricks! What else have you been learning?" Knowing the various skills of my other siblings, I had a feeling Bella's education would not stop with Jasper.

"Um…Rose and Emmett have been teaching me some self-defense techniques."

"Is that all? Because knowing Rose as I do, there's a whole lot more that girl can do than just fighting someone off." I tried to suppress the hard edge to my voice without much luck.

"She…she showed me how some offensive moves, too." Bella had gone pale, and she seemed to shrink into herself.

I think my anger was beginning to scare her. I huffed in frustration, my hands immediately flying to my hair to pull at the damp, messy locks. I fought to rein in my sense of aggravation.

"Why, Bella? Why do you need to do this?"

I was such an asshole. I, of all people, should have realized why she felt driven to do such things. "It's _him,_ isn't it? You think he's going to come back again."

We had never told her about the specifics of our interview with Eleazar Delgado and his chilling prediction that the perp would not give her up so easily. I had naively thought that coming to live with us would give her a sense of distance from what had happened and would make her feel secure at last. However, Bella was a smart woman. After three separate attempts on her life, she didn't need an expert profiler to tell her that someone wanted her dead enough to come back and try it again; she had worked it out all on her own.

With desperate effort, I tried to school my voice to a calmer timbre.

"You don't need to do any of that stuff, Bella. You just need to trust us to look after you. You know I'll do anything to keep you safe." I hated the pleading tone my voice had taken on, but I needed her to know how intensely and personally I took this sense of responsibility.

Jasper climbed out of the car to stand next to Bella and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"It's not just about that, Edward, and you know it!" he stated in his firm, no-bullshit voice. His comment seemed to galvanize Bella, and I could see from the stubborn tilt of her chin as it jutted out that my argument wasn't going down well with her.

"I do trust you, Edward. You should know that by now." Her hands came up to her hips as she jutted one out in a defiant angle. From the whitened appearance of her knuckles, I could tell that she, too, was fighting for control of her emotions. "Do I need to remind you of what happened? Three times, he came for me. The first time, no one even knew I was gone, and it was pure luck that those kids found me. The second time I was in a _hospital_, for God's sake, surrounded by people, yet he still tried to kill me. So excuse me for trying to look out for myself. I'm not some damsel in distress, you know, hiding away under lock and key. It didn't save me before, and I don't expect it will now!" She was almost spitting in anger now, her eyes flashing at me.

"I just want to protect you, Bella. It seems as if I need to protect you from yourself at the moment. Learning all that stuff gives you the wrong idea." My voice rose higher and higher. "You think you can fight someone like that off? All you're going to do is make him madder! You'll end up doing something stupid and put yourself in harm's way!"

Jasper scowled, throwing up his hands in surrender. His gesture made me think that I might just have overstepped some imaginary line.

"So you think wanting to fight for my own survival is stupid? Well, fuck you, Edward!" Her finger came out to jab the point home, and I felt it like a blow to the chest, even though the roof of the car separated us. "As nice as this little honeymoon from real life has been, I'm going back to school in a few weeks. You have a life, too. You can't be with me every single minute of the day, and I don't want you to, to be honest. You don't own me, Edward! This sick fucker is not going to give up, and I'm not either! I refuse to lie down and wait for him to finish the job. _When−_not _if−_he comes back, I'll be ready. He'll have a fight on his hands this time." With a flick of her ponytail, she spun on a sneakered heel and stalked off, her arms rigid by her heaving sides.

"Fuck!" My fist came down to thump the roof of the car.

"Hey, fucktard," shouted Jasper. "Don't take it out on my baby. Just because you're a dickhead who doesn't know when to shut his mouth! Are you honestly so clueless?"

My anger dissipated as quickly as it came, and the full weight of what I had just said to Bella hit me. I groaned and buried my head in my arms on top of the car.

"You're right," I replied, thoroughly dejected. "I've got no idea what I'm doing."

"Come on, let's go find Emmett. We'll shoot a few pockets or something; anything to keep out of the way of the girls. Once they find out what you said to Bella−and you know they will− they will take great joy in pointing out every single egotistical, macho, bastard thing you said to the love of your life. Give her some time to cool off before you throw yourself at her feet, okay?"

A short time later, the three of us were sequestered away in the games room nursing beers as I moped.

"You should have just hit her over the head with your club before dragging her back to your cave, dude," Emmett helpfully pointed out, shaking his head at my stupidity. "You should know that telling a woman not to do something is like waving a red rag at a bull. You can almost guarantee she will work twice as hard at everything now."

"Like you've never told Rose not to do something?" I snapped back, irritated by his seemingly superior attitude.

"You're kidding me, right? We all know Rose wears the pants in our relationship, and since I like to get into them, I know better than to try that shit."

He had a valid point there. I took a long pull at my beer before rubbing my hand wearily over my face.

"I made her think that _I_ think she's stupid. How am I ever going to get her to forgive me for that?"

"Let me give you an important pearl of wisdom, O Grasshopper," intoned Jasper. "The easiest way to make peace with a woman is to admit you were wrong and apologize. Now, I know this is a novel and terrifying concept, doing the two most foreign things known to the male gender, but it'll save you a hell of a lot of grief."

Emmett guffawed in agreement.

"Besides, you _were _in the wrong, Edward," Jasper continued. "That girl has a strong sense of self-preservation. Did you honestly think that tucking her under your wing would make all the other crap go away? If it were you, would you just wait for the perp to come back and do nothing to protect yourself in the meantime? Hell no! You'd obsess about it forever, then plan meticulously and lie in wait to kick his ass the minute he tried it again."

I sighed loudly; logically, I recognized the truth of his argument.

"I'm just so scared for her, Jasper. She's right. I can't be with her all the time looking out for her and keeping her safe. I'm dreading what's going to happen when she starts going out without one of us there. It'll kill me if something happens to her again. I only just found her, I can't lose her now…" My throat constricted at the thought, and I looked down, desperate to hold off the gathering emotion.

Emmett came over and gave me a friendly shove.

"C'mon, man. I'm sure once you tell her that, she'll understand. Maybe you could make some sort of deal to teach her something, too. You know, like a peace offering. She's pretty set on improving her odds if he comes after her again. She may be small, but that girl's feisty!"

"I am _not _teaching her something potentially illegal, Em," I stormed through gritted teeth.

"I never suggested you should. You're a smart guy−you'll come up with something, I'm sure."

"She said she doesn't want to be around me all the time. She thinks I see her as a possession," I mumbled, wondering how she could ever want to be with me now.

"You were mad, she was mad. Show her the truth of what you feel," replied Emmett. "I don't want to be around you all the time, either. That doesn't mean I never want to see you again. I still lub you, Eddie-weddy," he finished in a silly voice, ruffling my hair.

I snorted, pushing him away.

"Thanks, guys. I don't want to fuck this up." I gave them both a small smile, tipping my bottle to them in salute.

"Yeah, we don't want you to fuck it up either," agreed Emmett. "She's the first decent girl you've brought home. Things have been so much more interesting since she's been around. Gotta love a girl who goes commando and tells you to fuck yourself!"

I glared at Jasper for revealing those morsels of gossip to Emmett before throwing a bottle cap at his head. Soon, coasters and couch cushions were flying, and in the end, I didn't know who was laughing more. I felt lighter for it and resolved to find Bella soon and make it up to her.

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	33. Chapter 32

**Thanks to the combined skill of Ragsstone and ShowtunesJesus, this story has proper punctation and grammar. Thanks to Bower_of_Bliss, any mistakes I make when editing after they have had their way with it are picked up and corrected. I love my beta team. Thanks girlies xxx**

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**Chapter 32**

_**Bella**_

I was seething with righteous indignation.

_How dare he say those things and try to stop me!_

My thoughts twisted and fought each other for domination, my mind a mass of conflicted emotion. Knowing I would not be able to straighten them out enough to verbalize to anyone at the moment, I stomped around in search of some way to distract myself and calm my mind.

I clumped my way down the manicured lawn, still graceless in the confines of my leg brace and hating that, too. I stomped along a gravel path past the fenced pool and through an opening in the hedge bordering that part of the yard. As I emerged on the other side, I found myself in a large secluded area like one of the garden rooms they talked about on the lifestyle channel. A small sturdy-looking shed with deep, overhanging eaves clung like ivy to the external fence. Jasmine grew rampantly over the compact structure, the heady scent thick and intoxicating in the still air. A wooden pavilion occupied the opposite side of the spacious garden room, covering a large, bare daybed.

It was so quiet there; even the slight breeze was barred from entering by the high hedge walls bordering three sides of the enclosure. The shiny bars of the wind chimes suspended from a corner of the pavilion were unmoving and silent. The wind must find its way in somehow, though, as the grass was littered with small white petals. There must be a cherry tree somewhere nearby, and I admired the pretty, confetti-like effect of the scattered petals. The only sound came from the tinkling of a fountain where water splashed over an artfully arranged pile of rocks near the pavilion. Everything smelled fresh here, and I let the sense of peace soak in and soothe me somewhat. My inner seething receded to a simmer instead.

I found Rose's studio. She had told me where to find it, but in the newness of being in their home and my bourgeoning relationship with Edward, I had forgotten all about it. I remembered where Rose had told me the key was hidden, so I walked over to the fountain and fished in the small pool of water at the base of the rock pile until I found the clunky, old-fashioned, metal key. Walking over to the shed, I unlocked the door before carefully swinging it open to allow some light in. Dust motes floated lazily in the shaft of sunlight, and I could smell the combined scents of greenery, cool soil, linseed oil, and chalk. I breathed in deeply, letting the earthy smells fill and calm me.

I didn't know how Rose felt justified in calling it a studio; I could tell that this had probably been the gardener's shed in its previous incarnation. It was hardly big enough to park a car in. The walls were unlined and had nails banged into the unpainted joists to provide handy hooks. Rose had used these to suspend some of her art supplies and equipment. One wall was covered in raw pine shelves so aged that the wood had faded to a silvery-gray hue. Boxes of paints and other things were neatly stacked on top, along with some faded cushions, which I assumed were for the day bed outside. Wondering how she got enough light in here to work, I quickly scanned the available gear. Pulling an easel and folding stool off the hooks, I took them outside to the pavilion before returning to look for a box of charcoals. In my current frame of mind, I craved the bold strokes and slightly gritty texture of such a rough and unforgiving medium. I lifted the lid on a trunk under the shelves and pulled out a large, bound artist's pad.

Back outside, I settled myself on the unpadded slats of the day bed and tried to empty my head of swirling emotions. Picking up a stick of charcoal, I gave into the itch and let my hands do their thing. I watched as lines became shapes and shapes became human. I immersed myself in the sweeping motion of my hand whispering over paper, only stopping to expose new and fresh sheets to my questing fingers, still clutching the nub of carbon like a life preserver. As the pressure within me eased, I felt the need for something softer, and maybe a little color, too. I went back to the shed to explore the cartons and trunk again, waiting for something to call to me. I found a tin box of water color paints and a container of brushes, and took them outside. As I was filling an empty jar with water from the fountain, I heard footsteps behind me crunching along the gravel path. I could feel my shoulders tighten. I wasn't ready yet to have this conversation with Edward.

"I thought I might find you here."

I allowed the tension in my muscles to ease a little as I turned to face Alice.

"Mind if I watch?" she asked, sitting cross-legged on the thick grass near the pavilion.

I shrugged in a non-committed fashion and set the sketch pad on its edge on the easel as I set to work again.

"The guys are all hiding in the game room. I figured that Edward must have done something to upset you. When we were kids, Edward and Emmett used to get into mischief all the time. They would always sneak off to work out a story to tell Mom before she found out. I think they're all holed up in there, giving him some Dutch courage and the benefit of their manly expertise when it comes to how to deal with women." She flapped her hands in disgust. "Pftt, like any of them has any idea!"

I dipped my brush into the old jam jar holding water before swirling it around in the depression containing the cake of dried green paint.

"Are you going to tell me what he said, or do I need to ask Jasper?" Alice asked softly.

I couldn't bear the thought of having our argument rehashed for the ears of others again. The first time was bad enough.

"Edward doesn't approve of my 'self-improvement plan,'" I stormed, feeling my anger surge again. "He thinks I should sit quietly in my hideaway like a good girl and leave the defending up to the big boys. He thinks I'm stupid."

"Oh," was her only reply.

I snorted.

A flurry of warm air breezed past and caused small petals to billow around us in a shower of pure white and pale pink. My hand moved faster over the paper, eager to fix the captivating image on paper.

"Did I ever tell you about when I first met Jasper?" Alice asked.

I shook my head. I had heard a lot of her stories but not that one.

"Edward has always been very self-contained. He never had many friends, and he didn't really need any. He had all of us, you see. We've always been each other's friends as well as family. So you can imagine how curious we all were when he asked if he could invite someone to our annual Fourth of July barbeque. He had not long finished at the academy, and he wanted to introduce us to his partner. We knew Jasper would be a big deal before we even met him, since Edward rarely brought anyone home. So, in walks this cool drink of water with his slicked back blond curls and polite 'ma'am's. He was witty and smart and worldly, and I totally got why he and Edward got along so well. When he was saying goodbye at the end of the evening, he looked into my eyes, and I felt…something."

Her head dropped to her chest, and she started plucking away at strands of grass around her.

"Everyone liked him from the start, and soon Esme was insisting he join us for Sunday suppers, too. He would come and train in our gym with Edward, and they started driving to work together every day. He was around more and more. Me, though−I avoided him like the plague."

I looked up in surprise. "Really? Why?" I asked, my curiosity piquing. Seeing them together now, I couldn't think of another couple more right for each other.

"I never really had a 'type' of guy I was attracted to. My only conditions were no doctors and no policemen. As much as I love my dad and Edward, I had seen the hours they put in and the toll their jobs took on not just them, but those that care about them, too. The divorce rate for cops is almost twice the national average. Then there is the danger that comes with being a police officer−of being constantly in the front line of violence and surrounded by criminals _all _the time. I was terrified of loving Jasper and having to learn to live with that fear every time I said goodbye when he went to work. It was bad enough thinking about that every day with Edward. I wasn't willing to double that fear."

The remembered pain of loss stung me again as I thought of my father, not gunned down by some crazed criminal, but dead all the same. Yes, I had seen first-hand the toll the job took. Alice's words made me scared for Edward and Jasper, too.

"I fought against it until it was all I could think about. I made myself miserable for a whole year. I didn't want to be with Jasper, but I couldn't dream of being with anyone else either."

Wow. I couldn't imagine trying to resist Edward's charms for as long. I didn't want to. Then the memory of his angry words came back with a sting. I needed to distract myself again.

I turned my attention back to my work, surveying it and adding a sweep of color here and there.

"In the end, I couldn't help myself. Damn, that man is too sexy for his own good! As much as he loves his job, it still scares me silly. I know I drive him crazy, nagging him to wear his bullet-proof vest all the time, to check his taser and gun, stuff like that."

Happy with the finished product, I emptied my water jar and refilled it from the fountain to clean my brushes.

"Then of course, there is Edward's history with that b− Nina." She sneered at the mention of her name. "I bet he didn't tell you that Jasper calls her 'The Leech.'"

I shook my head.

"That woman sucked all the life from Edward for too long. She plotted for a long time before she sunk her claws into him. She tried to get him interested a couple of times when we were teenagers, but got shot down pretty quickly. So instead, she just bided her time until he went to college. She probably knew he would struggle a bit−being away from us−so she struck when he was vulnerable and alone. She made all his favorite food, dragged him to places that were familiar, and did all his favorite activities. She made herself seem like a dose of home and comfort, that scheming cow! We didn't even know what was happening with her until it was all over, and since we didn't know much of what had gone on between them, we didn't think much of it, really."

I listened closely, morbidly curious about an outsider's point of view about Edward's past relationship. I occupied my hands with packing away the equipment but made sure I could hear every word as I walked the few yards to the shed to replace everything.

"The second time she got to him, I had finally given into Jasper, and we started dating. They had grown close, Jasper and Edward, and then suddenly, he was on his own again once I started taking up all of Jasper's free time. He was at a bit of a loose end, and none of us were there to pick up the slack. When Nina came sniffing around again and realized he was still unattached, she really turned on the charm. They started seeing each other more and more, and he seemed, if not exactly happy, at least content? I don't know; he can be so hard to read at times."

I laughed at that, knowing just what she meant.

Gingerly picking up my sketch pad to avoid messing up my still damp picture, I held out my hand to help Alice off the grass. She sprung up in her usual graceful fashion and linked her arm with mine as we walked back to the main house.

"To start with, everything was about Edward and doing things he liked, just like she had done before. She tried to make him think that they were perfect for each other. Over time, though, it changed. There were more of her work functions and family events to attend, and more of what she needed to do to maintain her perfectly plastic image of the 'good life.' She got whiny when his work interfered and would guilt-trip him into making it up to her in other ways. She put subtle but constant pressure on him all the time. That's when Jasper started calling her 'The Leech' and started dropping hints to him about whether she was worth it. She seemed to suck the joy and life out of him as he tried to keep up with making her happy.

"Of course, it all blew up in her face when she tried to pressure him into moving in together. I laughed like a hyena when I heard about their fight in front of her family, as much as I felt sad for Edward. He was horrified about the whole situation, so we all tried to pretend we didn't know much about the details. Her dad came over, though, and yelled at our dad about how Edward was a complete bastard who had led her on and broken her heart. It affected their working relationship so much that they don't do overseas projects together anymore. None of us were sorry, though. Someone needed to teach the spoiled bitch that you don't get your own way all the time."

We went through the back door and made our way to the kitchen. I placed my sketch pad near the windows to dry and washed my hands at the sink. Alice disappeared into the pantry for a minute before emerging with a bag of biscuits. We started buttering them to prepare for tonight's supper.

"It really affected him, though. He seemed lost and…rudderless for a while after. He doubted everything about himself and everyone else for ages." She looked at me sideways under her lashes, her mouth pulled into an odd smile. "And then he met you. You confused him even further. He didn't seem to know what to do with all these new feelings. We could all see it. He was distracted and agitated all the time. He seemed to be a seething mess of contradictory urges and impulses. Jasper would come home and tell me about things he did or said when they saw you. He knew something was cooking with him, but he wasn't sure how it would end. Who would have thought that it would be The Leech who gave him the final nudge? That's poetic justice!"

I started piling biscuits up into the basket so they were ready for serving.

"Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that I'm not here to apologize for whatever he said, and I don't condone him striking out at you in any way. I'm just saying that he's scared. Scared about loving you and scared about losing you. He didn't think enough when he was with her, and now, with you, he's thinking too much. Edward is also the teeniest bit prone to overreaction. Throw in the fact that some psycho is out there looking for you, and it's no wonder he's a bit techy when he finds out you're trying to be all Charlie's Angels tough on the sly. He'll get over it. The boys will slap some sense into him, and he'll come apologize. If not, I'll do more than slapping!"

Dropping my knife, I threw my arms around Alice. "Thank you. I love him so much, but he was a real dick saying that stuff to me. I'm not giving up on my plans, but understanding why he got upset will help me think of a way to make him see my point of view about why I'm doing it. You don't know what it means to have someone to talk me through all this stuff."

Alice almost crushed me in a hug. "I'll always be here for you, Bella. You're not alone anymore."

I squeezed my eyes shut to stop my tears. Finally, our arms relaxed, and Alice broke away.

"Come on. Let's go set the table before everyone starts piling in. It's Rose's choice tonight, and I can't stomach the smell of seafood cooking."

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**In the next chapter, there will be kissing and making-up ;) I'm hoping to post it over the weekend sometime.**

**"Isle Esme 2412" by my wonderfully talented friend, Bower_of_Bliss has been nominated for best supernatural/horror/sci-fi WIP in The Emerging Swan Awards. Voting is open from the 30th of August so please go and vote for her intriguing story (The link for voting is in the last chapter). Her story is like nothing you've read in the fanfic universe, I promise!**


	34. Chapter 33

**Thanks to my beta's, ShowtunesJesus and Ragsstone. Ragsstone has been working double time to beta enough chapters to keep us going while she moves continents. I hope it all goes smoothly for her.**

**Thanks to my lovely friends Shazzio and Bower_of_Bliss for pimping this story in theirs. Shazzio is the author of "The Opposite Side," a tale where Bella is a vamp with the gift of telepathy and Edward her human beau. Bower_of_Bliss is the author of the very original sci-fi "Isle Esme 2412," which I rave about all the time.**

**I feel like we should have a trumpet fanfare for this chapter. Kisses to my pre-reader, Sacred Datura.**

**SMeyer wrote a sweet tale about first love. Hers has school kids and vampires. Mine has cute policemen and a psycho stalker.**

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**Chapter 33**

_**Edward**_

I searched for Bella high and low, determined to apologize privately and properly, but I hadn't been able to find her anywhere. In the end I gave up, instead planning to beg for a few moments of her time when we gathered to make supper together. Unfortunately, Bella and Alice had been noticeably absent while the rest of us prepared and cooked. I wasn't entirely surprised when I heard what was on the menu. We were having salmon, and although Alice loved eating it, she always complained about the odors associated with any kind of seafood preparation.

At first, I was relieved, thinking that if they were together, at least Bella would have someone to talk over our argument with. Then another thought occurred to me, and instead of just worrying about how I should apologize and if she would ever forgive me, I had the added paranoia about what Alice could be telling her. I was distracted and distant, earning me more than a few punches in the arm from Emmett as we stirred pots and flipped things in pans. When dinner was finally plated up, I grabbed two dishes and took them into the dining room.

They were sitting side by side at the table with an open bottle of wine between them. Bella was smiling, but it disappeared as soon as she saw me. I put a plate in front of her before running my hand along the back of her stiff shoulders, hoping my touch would help convey my remorse.

I took a seat directly opposite the girls. Alice snorted as she peered at Bella's plate. Next to the artfully arranged fillets of herb-crusted salmon was a spinach and red onion salad. Using the red onion, I had spelled out "sorry" on Bella's plate. The sounds of the others coming and taking their seats didn't distract my attention, which remained entirely focused on Bella. When I saw some of the tension leave her shoulders, I knew that my amateurish apology had made her thaw a little.

Once everyone was seated, we began eating. Mom and Dad started talking about their upcoming trip to Brazil, which currently had the highest rate of children dying from the effects of a cleft palate. The others asked questions about their itinerary, accommodation, and the health team going before the conversation changed. I just picked at my food, my eyes constantly lifting to examine Bella where she sat across the table from me. Her appetite did not seem as adversely affected as mine, though, as she ate with focused concentration. I didn't even notice when the chatter waned until my mom asked me something, jolting me from my anxious staring.

"Edward? Want to tell your mother what you did to upset Bella today?"

I choked on my mouthful, coughing and spluttering until my throat was clear enough to take a gulp of water to settle it.

"What makes you think I did something?"

Esme rolled her eyes and huffed. "Puh-lease! You two sit practically on top of each other every single day, touching and pawing all the time and sharing saliva." She pointed her fork at me threateningly. "I saw you boys all sneak off together and lock yourself in the games room this afternoon. Now you and Bella are on opposite sides of the table, and she can't even look at you! I may not have given birth to you, Edward Anthony Cullen, but I am still your mother, and I know when you've been misbehaving."

I could hear snickering around the table, and I dropped my head in shame.

"I may have…said some stupid things to Bella. I got a little upset and overreacted."

"Really, Edward? That doesn't sound like you at all!" taunted Rose.

I glared at her.

"I'm _sorry_," I emphasized, my eyes searching for Bella again. "I just…I got…I was worried for you. I shouldn't have said those things, and I behaved poorly. Will you forgive me, Bella?"

Finally lifting her head, she met my eyes. "Apology accepted, but don't think you're completely off the hook. We'll have to speak more about this later."

I nodded. That was more than I'd been hoping for.

"You're in for it now, Edward," Emmett warned with a chuckle. "When a woman says she wants to talk after an argument, she means she wants you to grovel or buy her jewelry."

I heard a thwacking sound and looked over to see Emmett rubbing his ears where both mom and Rose had slapped the sides of his head. I ignored him and turned my attention back to Bella.

"Maybe I should rephrase that. Debriefing after a disagreement can lend clarity to a situation, and can also be a starting point for negotiation and compromise," conceded Emmett using his best counseling voice. "Do you have something to say to Bella in the spirit of negotiation?"

"I'm really sorry, Bella, and I want to do something to help. I'll teach you to drive. Maybe, if he's willing, Jasper could teach you to shoot. Properly. I don't want to think of you handling a gun, but you were right; you need to know how to protect yourself." My head dropped again, and I swallowed the sudden surge of emotion that threatened to choke me "I…can't teach you that. I just can't."

I heard dishes rattling and felt the table moving before a hand yanked me forward by the front of my shirt. I looked up in surprise to find Bella all but lying on the table as she pulled me closer to her. I stood and stretched to meet her as she kissed me, saying so many things with her lips that she couldn't say with our audience present and watching raptly.

"Thank you," she whispered before resuming her place at the table, throwing a hasty apology to my parents for trying to break their furniture.

"See, that wasn't so hard, now, was it?" asked Esme, her face split with a huge grin. "I love it when people kiss and make up."

Carlisle sat next to her shaking in silent laughter as Jasper just snorted.

"Well, you've got almost all your bases covered now, Bella" interjected Alice.

I looked at her in confusion.

"Bella has got a whole strategy for her defense laid out. You should see all the cool things she has come up with," she explained. "You know about the self-defense lessons now, and the lock picking and hand-cuff escape. We also took her to get kitted out at that store in the city that sells spy gear."

I tried to control the fear that unfurled in my stomach at the thought of Bella fighting anything but listened intently all the same, biting down my natural protective inclination to object. I had no right to forbid Bella to do anything.

As she outlined her equipment, training, and strategies, I was both intrigued and impressed. She had thought this thoroughly through, and had come up with some inventive methods of protecting herself. I felt a sort of solace that if it came to the worst, she wouldn't be completely vulnerable.

After helping clear away and clean up after dinner, Bella threw me a meaningful look. Taking the hint, I reached out for her hand before saying goodnight to the family. Mom came over and kissed both of us on the cheek. As we walked past the others, we got more cheek kisses, hugs, and I got good-natured slaps on the shoulder from Jasper and Emmett.

"We're only going over to my room, not to Alaska," I pointed out.

"If you're going to 'talk,' you'll be taking more steps than those," Jasper predicted, trying unsuccessfully to suppress his smile.

With a last wave, we left by the back door. When our shoes were off and the front door of the loft locked firmly behind us, I released Bella's hand and asked her if she would like a glass of wine. I knew I would probably need something to stop my shaking hands from giving away my apprehension. When I returned from the small kitchenette with our glasses, Bella was perched on the end of the couch. I put my glass down on the small end table and knelt on the floor in front of her.

"Bella, I was such an idiot today. I really am sorry," I repeated as I looked into her eyes. "I know you're just trying to survive all of this the best you can."

"He's still out there, Edward, I know it,' she replied with a sniff as her tears threatened to break through. "I just want to be prepared for anything. Living here doesn't make it all go away, no matter how nice it is, or how well everyone looks after me."

I pulled her to me then and I wrapped my arms around her. We were at a perfectly matched height for once. I stroked her hair as she cried all the pent up tears from the frustrations and stress of the day. Her tears stung me worse than any of her angry words had. When she regained sufficient control, she pulled away to look at me again.

"I'm sorry, too. When I said I didn't want to be with you all the time, I didn't mean for it to sound like that. I love spending time with you. I just like a little bit of solitude every now and then, too. Now I'm not lonely all the time, I've realized I'm used to my own company, and I miss it a teeny tiny little bit. I'll make sure I get my fill of it when you're at work so it doesn't cut into our time together."

"You don't have to apologize for that, Bella." I got up and sat on the couch next to her before pulling her to my chest. With her tucked up under my arm, her hand resting on my chest, I felt some of the weight of our disagreement lift.

"I don't think you're a damsel in distress in need of rescuing, as much as I want to be able to save you from everything. You're the strongest person I know, Bella." I shushed her as she tried to protest. "You've suffered through a string of horrible attacks, and have had to leave your job and your home and hide away. Instead of just falling in a heap, you've taken the chance to change your life and fight back. You're resilient and determined. You've also got stamina and smarts." I planted a gentle kiss on her temple before bending to brush my nose along her ear as I pulled away slightly. "I'm seriously in awe of you."

"When I said you don't own me," she murmured into chest, "I was only half right. I may not be a possession, but I'm yours just the same."

My heart stuttered at her confession.

"I love you so much." With that I pulled her into my lap and kissed her lightly.

"I love you too, even if you _were_ a dick."

Our lips met again but with more fervor. My eyes closed as our tongues touched, tasting and tangling. I allowed my hands to roam up and down her back, exulting as I found the small patch of skin exposed between her jeans and shirt. I reverently stroked the skin there and was rewarded with a small groan from Bella. Her lips demanded more of mine, and she began to run her hands up and down my chest. I felt myself respond to her touch as the heat between us increased.

"Edward," she gasped, drawing a shaky breath.

"Hmmm?" I hummed back, my lips and tongue now busy caressing the sensitive skin along the column of her throat.

"I want…oh, boy, do I want!" she sighed.

"What do you want, my love?"

"I want more. I want you to touch me."

"I am touching you. Am I not doing it right?" I teased.

She groaned again, a sound that went straight to my cock, making it harden in an instant response. I couldn't resist her noises.

"I want you to…you know." She pulled her head away from the reach of my mouth then and hid it against my chest.

"God, this is so embarrassing," she mumbled, her words slightly muffled by her hair and my shirt. "It all looks so easy in movies. They just say 'Make love to me,' or 'take me,' or something equally impressive and then fall into bed together. I feel like some pushy hussy putting pressure on you."

My whole body went on instant standby, excited and waiting. "_God_, Bella, don't be embarrassed. There is nothing shameful in asking. You're definitely _not _a hussy." I found her jaw, and pulling away from her, tilted her head so I could again see into those mesmerizing brown eyes. As I opened my mouth to reply to her, her hand came up and clamped my mouth shut.

"No! Please don't tell me it's too soon or ask me if I'm sure." Her eyes were almost begging. "I've spent all my life hiding from things. I don't want to sit around waiting anymore. I'm going after what I want now…and I want this..." With that, she removed her hand and kissed me with abandon, boldly grinding herself into my all too eager erection.

"I hope _that _means you want me, too," she said in a breathy whisper.

"I do want you, so much," I managed to rasp out, my voice clearly as affected as the rest of me. "I didn't want to put any pressure on you, but I've wanted you for so long that you've been driving me insane. As much as I like sharing a bed, it's been like torturing a starving man with all that temptation dangled in front of me."

Our kisses became more frenzied, and I tentatively let my hand wander to stroke on the outside of her breast. She moved forward, pushing her breasts closer toward my questing fingers. I inched them around and inward until finally, I found the tightening bud of her nipple. I ran my thumb over it, enjoying the way it responded under my touch. My other hand stroked along her leg. I pushed up the loose denim and started undoing the Velcro binding of her splint. She crawled off my lap and stood to remove it, pulling off her socks, too.

Shuffling to the edge of the seat, I reached out my hands to the waist of her jeans.

I looked into her eyes again as I thumbed the button holding them closed, giving her time to object if she wanted to. She stared back at me with hooded eyes and parted lips before placing her hand over mine as she guided my movements. I helped her undo her pants and watched eagerly as she shimmied them down. When she stood upright again, I placed my hands on the outsides of her thighs and I drank in the sight of her.

She was wearing a simple pair of purple cotton panties with lace trim around the waist band. They were dainty and pretty, very her. Her legs were long and slender, and I followed their gentle curves up and down again with my hands before leaning in to place a kiss just above her belly button. Leaving my lips there for a minute, I inhaled, breathing in the fragrance of her skin and something else−something tantalizing and slightly musky. That scent called to me on a very primal level, making the burning desire coil and writhe within me exponentially.

"God, Bella, you are just so...you're beautiful. I can't get enough of you!"

She was still too far away from me, and desperate to remedy this, I leaned back into the couch again and pulled her onto my lap. She moved instinctively, straddling my legs as she placed her hands on my shoulders to steady herself. This brought her breasts close enough for me to reach again, and I gently bit down on one of her prominent nipples through the thin material of her shirt. Her back arched and I felt an urgent need to get rid of the obscuring material hiding her from me. I reached up and started undoing the buttons of my own shirt, knowing that it in her nervousness, Bella might be a bit too uncertain to take much initiative. Catching on quickly, she started helping, so I removed my hands and started to pull at the hem of her shirt. When she pushed my own shirt over my shoulders, I shrugged it off impatiently before returning to my efforts to divesting her of hers. As it inched up, I watched, hypnotized by the bare skin it revealed. I uncovered her matching purple bra, and at last, she was almost bare before me. Pulling the shirt up and away altogether, her hair cascaded around her shoulders and chest in a tangle of fragrant and lustrous tresses, the faint echo of her shampoo filling my senses. I fingered a satiny curl before sweeping the heavy mass of hair over her shoulder, kissing along her collarbone, chest, and finally the swells of her breasts.

Her chest rose and fell with increasing rapidity and her breaths became more like pants, and her hand came up to trail along my jaw and cheek. As my mouth found her nipple again, I both heard and felt the vibration of her throaty groan. I smiled in elation; I loved the fact that I could affect and rouse her−that I could make her feel how much I loved and worshipped her, not just with words but with my body as well.

As I continued lavishing attention on her breasts, she started to grind herself into me again. I could feel the heat of her, even separated as we were by her panties and my jeans. I wanted this obstruction gone, too. I couldn't wait to feel her−_all_ of her−at last. If we were going to move, it had to be soon, while I could still think lucidly. I knew I had to be careful and controlled to make this as pleasurable for her as I could, and to reduce the pain I knew would inevitably come.

"As much as I want to never move, your first time should be in a bed." I punctuated my words with another sweep of my tongue along the top of her breasts. "If I had more time, I'd light some candles and put on some music, you know−to make it special."

"I don't need fancy trimmings, I just need you. _You_ make it special." Her eyes were hooded and confirmed the truth of her sentiment.

Kissing her deeply again, I moved my hands under her buttocks as I rose with as much grace as I could muster and carried her the few necessary steps to my bed−our bed.

As I set her on her feet to pull down the comforter, an important consideration cut in, and I felt my heart plummet.

"I, ah, don't have any condoms. I've never needed to keep any here," I explained. It was true−I had never brought anyone to my room before Bella. I had never had sex without a condom either. After six months of self-imposed celibacy, I had fallen out of the habit of keeping ready stock at hand. Besides, she had only been staying here a few weeks; it would have been very presumptuous of me to buy some when I wasn't sure she was ready for that step or even wanted that with me.

"Oh. I didn't even think of that," she replied as she tried to catch her breath. "I had the birth control shot at the clinic so I wouldn't have my period while I was recovering. I haven't been with anyone before, so I'm covered for everything."

"I got tested after…" It felt wrong to say her name, that other woman, especially there in our place, doing what I hope we would soon be doing. "I'm clear, too."

"I told you earlier, I trust you, Edward." She kissed me and brought her lush body even closer to mine. Skimming my hands up over her ass and waist, I nipped and sucked at her lips as I struggled to undo the hooks on her bra. She wriggled her shoulders, allowing the straps to slide down her arms until finally her bra fell to the floor. I stood there for a moment, open-mouthed, watching as she bent to remove her panties. I was finally seeing her, all of her, at last.

She was exquisite. That was the only word my blood-starved brain could come up with.

Suddenly, my pants and boxers seemed unnecessary and all-too-confining. I pushed them down and off at record speed, remembering at the last minute to do the same with my socks. It was her turn to gaze open-mouthed at me, and I could see the slight apprehension in her eyes as she sized up my eager erection, straining as it was to find its magnetic north−Bella.

I moved closer to her, trailing my hand up the smooth silk of her skin until I reached one of her delectable dark pink nipples again, teasing it lightly.

"You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen," I confessed as wonder colored the tone of my hushed voice. "You're just so perfect."

She kissed me deeply, her tongue stroking mine in a slow seductive dance as her hands wound around my neck, pulling me flush with her whole body. My cock was now trapped between us, and with every subtle movement, I could feel the delicious friction of our touching skin surrounding it, becoming slicker with our mingled perspiration and my own seeping arousal.

My other hand moved more timidly at first, starting on her side before slowly tracing over the dip below her hipbone and inching ever downwards. Finally, my fingertips brushed her damp curls before dipping further south in search of her hidden secrets. As my fingers slipped easily between her delicate folds, I quickly found the treasure I was looking for. Circling and stroking, I could feel Bella's almost instant reaction. She stopped kissing me, and her head fell onto my chest as her breath tickled over my skin in rapid bursts. Her hands clamped onto me in a vice-like grip as the rest of her body stilled. Worried I was hurting or scaring her, I ceased my teasing, waiting for her to give me a sign of how to proceed next.

"Don't stop now," she begged as her voice shook, so I resumed my attentions with renewed enthusiasm. Moving the position of my hand slightly, I continued to lavish her clit while gently pushing a finger inside her. She was scorchingly hot and wet, and I knew she would be ready enough in no time. I couldn't believe how good she felt and I wasn't even fully inside her yet. I moved my finger in and out in an even rhythm as I continued to tease her, just as my other hand did with her nipple.

As soon her legs began to shake, I guided her onto her back on the bed before settling myself between her parted legs, continuing with little pause. I watched as she moved her hand to cover her mouth, attempting to bite back the moans that threatened to break free.

"Don't hold it in, baby. I want to hear you," I urged, desperate to hear those sounds again. Her hand relaxed before reaching up to rest on my chest again, tangling in the thin dusting of hair there.

The sheen of a light sweat beaded her skin, and she began to tremble against me. Just as her body started to quake violently, her nails dug into me as the other hand fisted the sheet. As she arched and then stilled completely, she let out a loud and arousing series of moans as her orgasm consumed her entirely. I watched briefly, completely enthralled by her ecstasy.

Intent on making the most of her high, I quickly lined up my swollen and impatient cock with her folds. Before her orgasm had completely subsided, I pushed myself slowly and inexorably into her still pulsing and searing heat. I felt the momentary internal resistance before passing through that, too.

As our bodies joined at last, I felt as if the whole universe narrowed to this bed, to the woman beneath me, to the soul I felt cleaving to me, just as mine cleaved to her. It was as if this were my first time, too, such were the overwhelming sensations and emotions that boiled beneath my skin.

In truth, this was a first for me−the first time I had ever made love to a woman. I hadn't loved those nameless others, and their memory expunged from my consciousness, erased and replaced by Bella.

In that moment, I became aware of everything shifting monumentally.

This was home. This was forever.


	35. Chapter 34

**As always, I'd like to thank the lovely ladies who make this story look pretty and flow nicely. Ragsstone and ShowtunesJesus, you rock. Special mention to Bower_of_Bliss, who must surely be my fairy godmother. **

**Special thanks this week in particular to fiercepixie, jetstreamRose and Sacred Datura. You all gave me so much more than I gave you, and when I most needed it, too. Smoochy kisses to you xxx**

**I know it's shocking to think about, but this is a work of fiction. SMeyer owns the original concept and characters. I just play dress-ups and pretend with them.**

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**Chapter 34**

_**Bella**_

I had read a lot of books in my time, and being young and curious, I had read a lot _about_ sex and books with a lot _of _sex. I knew it could be good or bad, rough or gentle, pleasurable or sometimes painful. I expected all that. Absolutely nothing prepared me for the reality, however.

Every time Edward touched me, it was like the outside shell I showed the world melted away. He striped me down to my very essence and allowed me to behave and act as came naturally and as my body dictated, rather than as I felt I should. He had told me that he liked my naturalness. I was glad of that now, because during our intimacy, I was at my most organic, my basest needs and reactions laid out for only him to see.

I loved that I finally got to see that part of him, too. He usually carefully restrained his sexual needs with me. He tried so hard to make things easier and more comfortable for me, and in the process became too much of a gentleman for his own good.

In the end I had needed to ask him directly, since nothing else seemed to work−not dressing in less at night to tempt him, not sticking my tongue down his throat, not virtually attacking him and dry humping him. Nothing. Although I appreciated him letting me set the pace, I craved this final connection with him. After our argument, I felt compelled to show him how much I belonged to him. I just couldn't wait any more. So I begged, much to my shame. Edward, being the gentleman he was, told me not to be embarrassed. His reassurance helped me rid myself of the last of my inhibitions as I gave myself to him in every way.

I had been right about the lack of clothing improving things. As amazing as our experimenting had been, it was nothing compared to the feel of his bare skin against mine. I thrilled at the varying textures of him−the smoothness of his skin, the ticklish feel of the hair on his chest, and the slickness of his sweat. Those beautiful fingers of his knew just how to touch me, and just how to tease and excite me. Although I didn't want to think of whom he had been with before me, I was thankful that at least one of us knew what they were doing, and I certainly enjoyed the benefit of his experience. I let our bodies' guide me; the building need and his skillful touch making me react intuitively. I urged him on wordlessly at every turn, pushing my breasts towards his mouth and wantonly grinding myself on him.

He was a thoughtful and considerate lover, wanting to make it memorable and proper for me by moving things to the bed and making a remark about setting a more romantic scene. As if I needed any of that. When I would look back at this night, I didn't want my memory to be of a fancy or decorated room. I wanted only to recall the feel and taste and touch of Edward, the desire we felt for each other, and the bliss we shared.

When Edward remembered about birth control, his face fell with disappointment, and I thought he was going to call the whole thing off, causing a momentary surge of panic. Caught up in my hunger for him, mundane considerations like protection hadn't cross my mind. Since I'd had the shot back at the clinic, I hadn't given a second thought to the fact that _he_ might have a reason for concern. I really was naive when it came to issues like that, and it made me appreciate how fortunate I was that I was with someone I trusted and was committed to, and who was mindful of things when I had no idea.

I hoped I'd never forget the look on his face when he saw me completely naked for the first time. He looked both stunned and admiring, making it easier to believe him when he said I was beautiful. His words had a power that no one else's had, and I felt a thrill of happiness.

My face must have mirrored his expression when I finally got to see him in all his glory, too, although I felt a measure of apprehension color the anticipation when I regarded in his penis. Having never seen one up close and personal before, I had no measure of comparison. It looked huge to me. I tried to calm myself by remembering reading that most were of a similar size when erect, and that a woman's body was designed to accommodate natural male variances.

His erection seemed to have a mind of its own, as when I kissed him to distract myself from my growing nervousness, I felt it jerk against me with the contact of our bodies. The contrasting sensations of his heat, the velvety skin and the solid firmness of him were both surprising and fascinating. As he moved against me minutely, the slickness his erection trailed between us just heightened the electricity flowing under my skin.

Everything he did made me throb and ache for him, and finally, when he adeptly found my clitoris, I felt the tingling escalate. I clutched myself to him, trying to hold myself together long enough to fully appreciate his attentions. Edward must have thought he hurt me, because he stopped and his posture radiated concern. I begged again, that time far too aroused to be self-conscious about it. Reassured, he needed no further encouragement to continue and skillfully stimulated my vibrating body to even greater heights.

As I shattered to a million pieces with pure pleasure, I was brought back to reality by a deep visceral stab of pain as Edward slid home. My eyes opened, and I inhaled sharply, my nose filling with the scent of his heated skin, our combined sweat and the tangy muskiness of sex.

I could see nothing but him, the look of amazed and awestruck intensity frozen on his face. He stilled when his body was completely flush with mine, either giving me a moment to get over the invasion or too overcome himself, I wasn't sure which. The pain was gone almost as soon as my body registered it, replaced with an ache that, while not exactly pleasant, wasn't unbearable either.

After a brief pause, he moved, completely leaving me before slowly filling me all over again. The sensual dance of our bodies began, and as I adjusted, I moved my hips in time with his, chasing those thrilling tingles of pleasure again.

My response roused him from his daze, and his eyes locked with mine. A million words, promises and declarations flew between us as the love I felt for him overflowed. I let Edward consume me, the sensations, scent and sight of him anchoring me to nothing but him.

He dropped to his forearms as his lips crashed to mine in a heated kiss. I could feel the sweat roll off him and drip onto me, the minute rivulets tickling a path down my breasts and sides, further exciting my already alert nerve endings and leaving tingling trails of electricity in their wake.

He spoke, his voice twisted with passion.

"Bella."

I hummed in response as my mouth seemed unable to form coherent words.

"Just…Bella. You're everything."

I smiled, unable to contain my joy.

His breathing became more strained as his movements became increasingly jerky and less rhythmical. I watched, enthralled, remembering the dance of his climax last time. He threw back his head and groaned through his orgasm, and I felt the spasms of his release deep within my most sensitive of flesh.

We lay still joined, panting as we both came down. I couldn't take my eyes off him and felt both satisfied and triumphant. We were united, bonded now in the most intimate of ways. Slowly, I returned to my body after the haze of pleasure as the trembling of my limbs alerted me to their fatigue. My hands had a firm grip of Edward, one on his luscious ass cheek and the other on his waist, while my legs were clamped around his hips.

With a small sigh of regret, Edward withdrew, and I whimpered with the loss of our connection, my body missing his already. He moved to lie by my side, his fingers lazily stroking and caressing along my bare hip.

I felt two fat, hot tears leak out from the corner of my eyes and trickle into the damp hair at my temple. I was completely overwhelmed by the depth of emotion surging through me.

Edward looked concerned as he leaned in for another kiss.

"I love you. How−"

I clamped my hand over his mouth, just as I had done earlier.

"I love you, too. That was amazing−_you_ were amazing. Don't ask me if I'm okay, because right now, I'm still soaring."

He laughed, and I felt my own replying smile stretch my mouth to impossible limits.

"Are you sore? You didn't come. Was it as awful as they say for the first time?"

I moved my hand to stroke along his jaw, wanting to reassure him.

"I did come, right before, and no, it wasn't awful. It hurt a bit to start with, but it didn't last. Right now, all I feel is blissed out."

I moved slightly as if to show him that I was okay. That was when I noticed the resultant slipperiness of our love-making seeping slowly between my legs. Rather than being grossed out, I sort of enjoyed the slick feeling protecting my swollen flesh from the friction of movement. When I thought of what else might be coming from there, I sat up in a minor panic to examine myself.

"Ah…I think I might have made a bit of a mess on your bed. Can you help me to the shower?" I clamped my legs together, hoping to hide the stain below, realizing that it was a wasted effort. He would see soon enough when I got up to use the bathroom.

"Don't worry yourself. It's to be expected your first time," he soothed. "Please don't be embarrassed." He jumped up in all his naked glory to start the shower for me. I didn't even bother hiding my open ogling that time, relishing the opportunity to admire his retreating form.

Edward came over to the bed and picked me up, carrying me bridal-style to the bathroom, making me laugh. Putting me straight under the running shower, he gently nudged me forward before stepping in and joining me. He picked up my mesh sponge and added a generous dollop of shower gel before lathering my body.

"You don't have to do that. I'm quite capable of washing myself," I observed.

"I want to do it. What did you say to me once before? That's right−hush up and just enjoy."

Leaning my head back against the glass screen, I did as instructed as he washed everything, including my hair, touching me with tenderness and care. It almost felt more intimate than the sex. When he seemed satisfied that I was clean enough, I took the pouf from his hand.

"My turn now," I explained. "I hope you don't mind smelling like me."

"I'd love to smell of you," he answered, leaning in for another kiss. "Then everyone will know I'm yours, too."

I ran my hands all over him, making the most of the opportunity to touch him as he hummed his appreciation. When I got a bit too enthusiastic about exploring between his legs, reawakening his erection, he gently grabbed my hand, saying round two might be a bit too much for me tonight. With a sheepish grin, I contented myself with rinsing the suds away instead, watching captivated as paths of bubbles and water sluiced off his skin.

Afterward, we dried each other before returning to his room. I went over to the drawers he had emptied for my things to find some clean pajamas but Edward's hand closed over mine, stopping me.

"Would you mind not putting any on−just for tonight? I'd really like to feel your skin against mine, just you and me together. Is that okay?"

I looked at the imploring expression on his face and gave in without a second thought. Lying in bed, naked, next to an equally naked Edward? Did he even have to ask?

Turning to the bed, I tried to beat him there to get the linens off before he could see the mess I had made, but Edward would have none of that.

"Half of it is me, anyway," he argued. "You must think I'm pretty gross for sweating like that."

He had sweated a lot, probably from restraining himself so much in his efforts to look after me. There were patchy circles on the sheet where his knees had been, and long areas of dampness from his forearms. I'd had no idea sex could be so messy.

"I suppose you can't help what your body did, just like I couldn't," I replied as we worked together to strip and remake the bed before climbing in. I turned onto my side as Edward curled around me, wrapping his arm across my midsection and linking our hands.

He was right; it was wonderful to feel the warmth of his skin and the tickle of his hair against me. I snuggled my bottom in closer to his groin, tangling my legs with his, eager to eliminate every bit of space between us.

"I think we need to do this every night. I could get used to never needing pajamas again," I declared, sighing in appreciation.

Things were different between us after that−better, if it was even possible. I felt like a part of me was with him all the time−like I was only whole when we were together. Life went on, and we managed out time apart, but I always felt that sense of relief, of homecoming and completion, whenever we came together again. It wasn't as if I was lost or incomplete, it was just as if Edward and I had exchanged a portion of our vital essence. I liked the feeling of knowing my soul had met its mate.

I continued my training with Rose and Emmett, and sometimes Edward would even watch or join in. I especially loved practicing the kung fu forms. In a way, it was like when I gave in to the itch as I created my artwork. I would allow myself to sink into an almost trance-like state. When I found that calm place within, the moves flowed effortlessly and instinctively. I felt strong, focused, and almost hyper-aware of everything around me. No wonder kung fu turned an obese panda into a dragon warrior; I felt the same way after each session.

I also practiced my lock-picking, having taken to twisting up my hair with the set of thin spike tools Jasper had given me so that I would have them on me all the time. Whenever I was somewhere unobserved, I would try random doors to improve stealth and to gain more experience with a variety of locks. Although not as good as Jasper, I was getting quicker, and it was requiring less concentration.

The shooting lessons were a bit more difficult. No matter how patiently Jasper schooled me, I never felt comfortable holding the unforgiving and unyielding metal in my hands. I was far too conscious of the lethal applications of this type of weapon and its potential to be used against me. I grew better at handling a variety of calibers and had become quite adept at hitting both stationary and moving targets, but guns would never be my preferred weapon of choice. I was worried about disappointing both Jasper and Edward, and also the memory of my own father. Edward just seemed relieved and Jasper nonplussed when I eventually explained my dislike for guns. Jasper reassured me that it was more about having a whole passel of options and tools than developing an obsessive reliance on any one particular method.

I would probably always feel more affinity for the weapons Rose had made me realize were all around. I loved considering different ways to use every day items to wound, maim or stop an assailant.

The only exception was my pocket-rocket taser−how I loved _that_ little baby. Disguised as a compact cell phone, I loved its seemingly innocuousness; the weight of it in my jeans or shirt pocket was a constant reassurance.

Getting my driver's license didn't prove as onerous as I'd initially thought and turned out to be something Edward and I enjoyed working toward together. I had managed to cover a fair amount of driver's ed in high school, which was no mean feat considering how many schools I had attended. Edward was a patient teacher and passed on many of the defensive driving tips he had learned while working with the highway patrol. He assured me that after a few weeks of solid practice, I would be ready to take the practical driving exam.

I still attended the clinic, always driving in and back with one of the girls. As the number of sessions I needed started to reduce with my physical strengthening, I began to help out with various activities to pass the time until my ride was ready to go. I continued to teach residents how to knit. I read to others in the Acquired Brain Injury wing. I also played a lot of games with other day-patients participating in occupational therapy sessions. I enjoyed interacting and encouraging the residents; so much so that I began to seriously consider switching my academic focus, perhaps even permanently changing my career goals.

I also did some charity work with Esme. Since my evenings were often free while Edward worked second watch shifts, I had taken to accompanying Esme on her weekly trips to refuges, shelters, and group home transit centers. We would take a van loaded with small backpacks bearing all sorts of popular characters to give to the displaced children who arrived bewildered and scared, so often arriving with only the clothes they stood in. Each bag contained a brand new pair of pajamas and clean underwear, a toothbrush and paste, and a facecloth and comb. They also held a teddy bear and a new book. Everyone needed a bear to hug at night. I'd never forget the small girl who told me excitedly that she had never had her own pair of brand new underpants before. Such a small thing, yet it gave her such a thrill as well as a little dignity.

After we distributed out bed-time bounty, I loved to gather a little circle of followers and read them bedtime stories. It saddened me that so many of them had missed out on this nightly joy. I knew it was becoming an addictive pastime when I started making finger puppets and costumes to delight the kids with as I read them stories I had selected with careful consideration.

I also continued to create and experiment with my renewed passion for art. I returned often to Rose's little garden haven or would sit and draw in my ever-present sketch pad. I had amassed an extensive portfolio of work ready for Glenhaven's upcoming exhibition. The only problem was narrowing down the final pieces I was going to submit.

My activities became more varied as I started to tick things off on my long list of experiences to catch up on. I ate all sorts of exotic foods in a variety of unusual and sometimes peculiar restaurants. Edward delighted in taking me to visit the opera, the theater, museums, and art galleries. I even took a few dancing lessons once I was cleared to stop wearing my leg brace. My new and improved physique lent me flexibility and a certain liquidity to my movements, which I really enjoyed. Edward enjoyed these sessions, too, delighting in the way we moved together, both on the dance floor and in our bed after.

That was something I would never tire of, that everything always came back to just the two of us. No matter what things we did separately or together, at the end of the day it was just him and me, lying together in a tangle. I loved the simplicity of it and thrilled in the sensuousness of it. It was a revelation as we explored each other, me learning everything from scratch and him discovering what stirred my response best. I was a willing pupil, and Edward was only too happy to study with me.

Most of all, I enjoyed developing my friendships and deepening the relationships I had with each member of the family. I spent time with all of them in different pursuits. Alice was my girlfriend and sister, the one who lightened my mood over coffee and car rides. Jasper was the quiet and encouraging teacher who showed me how to arm and free myself. He was also quite the philosopher. Whenever I had even a minor difficulty, it was Jasper who would steer me in the right direction with a few sage and well-placed words.

Rose was my time out−the companion I sought when I needed company but not talk. Although I loved moments of solitude where I reacquainted myself with the pleasures of my own company, I had grown to be a more social animal than I would have ever thought in my previous pre-Cullen existence. Rose never demanded anything of me, and even sought me out at times when it seemed she needed companionship, too.

Emmett, on the other hand, was my confessor. He gave me a physical outlet during training and an emotional one often as well. I could even talk to him about my mother, and had spent many a cool-down period after training remembering and revealing random things from my childhood. He always gave me perspective, a new way of considering events, allowing me to purge the negative aspects of them and leaving me with more pleasant and nostalgic feelings.

As she was for us all, Esme became my surrogate mother. With her hugs that said more than words, she soothed the lost and lonely child within. She would nag me about eating more and tease me good-naturedly about Edward. She would watch me as I read to the displaced children during our outings together, and would later tell me how proud she was of me. As I accomplished some of the goals on my wish list, Esme would make me relive every moment, and always asked how it made me feel to complete them.

Unfortunately, Carlisle worked such long and odd hours that I got to spend the least time getting to know him. I quickly learned, though, that he was the go-to guy for any sort of on-line shopping. Alice proved no help, as she explained in a serious but sing-song voice that she had an aversion to the retail religion pushed by mercenary and cold-blooded commercial conglomerates out to line their own pockets. Because of his limited time, Carlisle had become very adept at surfing the net for all his requirements, enjoying the ease and convenience of being able to do so from wherever he was, and using whatever time he had available. He helped me shop for a new laptop to replace the one I assumed had been stolen by whomever did the same with me. I refused all well-meaning offers from the family to buy me one, and dipped into my meager savings. I had to relent when Carlisle insisted that the family get me a small gift for my birthday, knowing it would hurt their feelings to refuse. They wanted to replace the iPod that had been taken with my bag, and making sure that it was going to be a group gift, I agreed.

I also bought a new messenger bag for school and my first mobile phone, knowing that if I didn't, Edward would.

I now had people to keep in touch with−people who would worry if I disappeared. They all had fun at my expense when they watched me struggle to program my phone and use it right, and continually teased me about my inability to text-speak. Being an English major, I just couldn't bring myself to mangle language in such a disrespectful manner. My text messages were like letters, complete with an opening greeting, full words instead of abbreviations, and a proper sign-off, all of which took considerable concentration and effort to complete.

Purchasing the phone was a major reality check for me. It highlighted the fact that soon, my new life would intersect with my old one. Since I came to live with the Cullens, I had never left the house unaccompanied. I was either with Edward or another member of the family. Going back to school meant that I would spend a large chunk of my day away from them all, hence the need to remain in contact by phone.

My life had been dramatically altered after the first attack three months ago, and practically every aspect of it had changed. _I_ had changed, evolving with new vigor, goals and family. I would be returning to my studies all too soon, and I could feel my sense of apprehension grow at the thought.

It was the only remaining link to my old life and the old Bella.

I had finally decided to let my apartment go, knowing that after the last night I had spent there, I could never go back. I had no sense of particular attachment to it anyway, especially since my sense of home was now inextricably tied with Edward rather than a random address. My furniture was stored in the recesses of the Cullens' garage, along with the ten cartons that contained the relics of my old life. Relieved of my previous home and job, school was the only potential remaining tie to the stalker.

Retuning to university was going to be the real test. If the stalker was still pursuing me, it would be there he would find me−at the only commonality I kept to my old life. As my anxiety grew, the familiar recurring nightmare of Snape came back with a vengeance, a frightening event after the respite of the last few weeks. The dream had been chased away by Edward's comforting presence next to me every night.

As a group, we made lots of contingency plans, and although reassuring, I was still uneasy. My memory of the days preceding and during my attack had never resurfaced, so I had no clues or ideas to arm myself with. I could tell Edward was on edge, too, and he made long lists of "issues" to be attended to before my first day back.

Physically, I knew I had never been in such peak condition. The gym work, kung fu and self-defense lessons had given me strength and definition and the knowledge of how to use it all to my best advantage. It was the psychological adaptation that proved the real challenge. Although I had changed, adjusting to my new circumstances and had worked hard to overcome my deficiencies, I had so much more to lose this time. The awareness that someone was out there, waiting and plotting, was also petrifying. The stalker was relentless, cunning, and violent, and underestimating his persistence had almost led to disaster the last night I had spent in my old home.

I had done everything I could to prepare, and the only thing left to do was continue to practice and to pray that all my endeavors to protect myself thus far would be enough.


	36. Chapter 35

**Thanks to my wonderful beta team of ShowtunesJesus and Ragsstone. Enormous hugs to Rags for saving my bacon at the ninth hour. Thanks also to Bower_of_Bliss for her continued support in all things.**

**SMeyer doesn't read this stuff, so I don't know why I bother thinking up something different to put here each week :P**

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**Chapter 35**

_**Edward**_

**Monday & Tuesday**

I stuck the latest picture up on the whiteboard before standing back to survey the composite effect. There were now seven photos there. I didn't even really need to look at the board any more as every single fact was permanently etched in my memory. I knew their names, histories, and characteristics, as well as how some of them had died and where their bodies had been found.

I was upstairs in the Detective Division, where a friend of Jasper's had kindly given us some space to set out our investigation findings. Maria had been his senior and partner before she was promoted. She still had something of a soft spot for him, and although it was totally one-sided, Jasper was not beyond using the awareness to aid our little sideline. Maria seemed content with the arrangement, too, since she and her partner, Stefan, would gain a heads-up on our progress and potentially be assigned to the case if it proceeded to anything more. During our trips to update the board, Stefan would often drift over for a chat. Nearing retirement age, he had a never-ending supply of fascinating anecdotes about famous cases he had seen and played a role in over the course of his long career. More than once, he nostalgically commented how our investigation reminded him of the hunt for Ted Bundy, who had also targeted young women he found on campus.

Of the pictured girls, Bella was the only one still alive. I had a file full of missing girls who fit the loose parameters we were using to narrow down our search field, but there would be no way to link them to the other women on our board unless they turned up dead. I was more than happy for these cases to remain as "maybes." At least that way, there was still hope for them.

When I started searching the ViCAP database to look for crimes similar to Bella's, there had been were so many that I had been swamped with cases for comparison for a while. Then I remembered something from a seminar I had attended a while ago. The speaker had spoken of how serial killers and pedophiles selected their victims. _Availability, vulnerability and desirability._

Thinking about it helped focus my attention and allowed me to start finding similarities between the victims.

Of the dead girls, the most immediately noticeable thing was how similar they all looked. They shared a slight build and were all quite petite. That body type in itself wasn't unusual; assailants rarely chose a target bigger or physically stronger than themselves. It was much easier to intimidate and subdue someone when the physical advantage was yours.

Every one of them had long hair. Although the exact shade varied slightly from victim to victim, their hair color stayed within a range of mousy brown to almost black. All the girls had dark eyes, too, mostly brown or hazel. Those characteristics seemed to be what this perp found desirable.

Each had been described as having a very introverted personality, and "timid" had been attached to more than one. They all had limited family and friends and, as a result, were somewhat socially isolated. That element made them vulnerable to predation and less likely to be immediately missed.

Another striking similarity was that their remains had all been recovered either from water or very close to it. From my research, I had learned that roughly seventeen percent of homicide victims nationwide were dumped in water. It was a method favored by organized killers, as opposed to the disorganized and more impulsive murderer. Running water eliminated a lot of trace evidence, leaving little or no link to the scene of the victims' demise, which in turn reduced the amount of proof that tied a perp to the crime.

In our unique location, there was an abundance of convenient access points to water. With some basic scouting and observation, a suitably motivated person could easily find places that were secluded enough to reduce the possibility of being observed during the dumping of a body. One or two deceased individuals were pulled from various waterways in our vicinity every month, but most were the victims of accidents or drowning rather than homicide. The fact that the bodies of six women had been located in various waterways had caught my attention, especially as we had focused our attention on data from the last three years only. Maria had suggested we restrict our time parameters to more recent crimes to begin with, both as a means of utilizing reasonably fresh information and keeping our workload manageable. This similarity was not flagged as important by ViCAP, though, and to be fair, not all of these cases had come from there. Several bodies were in too poor a condition for a cause of death to be determined, which was a mandatory information field when entering data into the program. Additionally, due to the extensive amount of area surrounding the waterways, there were seven police jurisdictions involved. Each zone, while bound by the same laws and professional requirements, operated in subtly different ways, which reflected on the skill and professional philosophy of its staff and administrators.

Using water as a method of body disposal was notoriously unreliable. In general, corpses could be very heavy. Even a hundred-pound petite woman could be hard to move when the body offered no cooperation. There was an irrefutable truth in the term "dead weight." If tethered to something providing sufficient weight, a body could be successfully submerged in any pool of water deep enough. After that, numerous variables came into play, such as water temperature and depth, tides, watercraft activity, predation by crustaceans and fish, and the condition of the body itself when put into the water. Part of the process of decomposition was the accumulation of gasses within the body. The trapped air created buoyancy. As soft tissue putrefied, rope or chain tethers might loosen or detach altogether. The combined result was that the body inevitably resurfaced, increasing the chance of discovery and the opportunity for forensic assessment.

Several of the victims in our grouping had been recovered in a condition sufficient for further examination. Exsanguination, or excessive blood loss, had been listed as a cause of or contributor to their deaths, but that diagnosis wasn't uncommon in violent death. Being shot or stabbed frequently led to significant and often fatal blood loss. Unfortunately, some of the bodies had been too decomposed to yield much in the way of useful forensic information.

Of the three bodies where an autopsy was able to be performed, all had shown signs of penetrating injury caused by a sharp instrument, most likely a knife of some sort. One victim had several deep wounds to the carotid artery in the neck and both femoral arteries in the inner thigh. The other two had multiple stab wounds, but they were in different patterns across each body and were made by different weapons, which made it more problematic to link the two crimes. Although not unheard of, most established serial killers employed very similar methods and tools in the execution of their victims.

The most significant common factor for me, though, was that each one had a tie to the university−the same one that Bella was due to return to in a matter of days. I was sure this was how the stalker found his victims and how he identified their availability. This link was what kept me searching and examining every detail, desperately trying to find any clue that could identify the protagonist.

Nettie Parker was the first victim and the oldest at twenty-three. She had been a junior accounts clerk in the finance department. Lucy Romano, aged seventeen, was the daughter of a woman who ran a cafe on campus. She had occasionally visited her mother at work, sometimes spending a whole shift there, working on her homework at a table tucked away in the corner. Eighteen-year-old Charlotte Gordon lived with her elderly grandmother close to the campus and walked her dog through the extensive grounds several times each week. Annette Reed had been hailed as an up and coming musician. Although only seventeen, she had played the piano in music eisteddfods in the university's performing arts center at least twice a year. Viktoria Petrovska was the most recent victim, her body having been recovered from a river the previous day, where it had wedged against a pylon supporting the railroad bridge above. The twenty-year-old modern languages student had been on an exchange program from a foreign university. Besides Bella, she had also been the only other current student.

The connection to the university was considered tenuous at best by our sergeant, considering that it had somewhere in the range of forty thousand students, and some thirty thousand direct employees. Many more people passed through the grounds every day. It seemed more than a random coincidence to me, though.

As far as we had been able to ascertain, all the victims had vanished somewhere in the late afternoon or early evening, and most had disappeared late in the week. Five of the seven had disappeared over a holiday long weekend or just before a vacation break. The more I thought about it, the firmer my gut feeling was that the perp was definitely some sort of university employee.

I had also been reading a lot about geographical profiling. Most people were aware of behavioral profiling, especially as so many crime shows on television seemed to use this as their primary method to identify a potential perp. Geographical profiling was another useful investigative methodology where crime locations were analyzed to determine a point of significance for the offender, such as a primary residence or place of employment.

Although we had recovery sites for each victim, aside from Bella, we had no idea where these girls had been kept and assaulted. A large map took up half our board, with little red dots highlighting the sites of recovery, and green circles or dots showing where the victims had disappeared. So far, the site of abduction was merely speculation in almost all cases. That fact still shocked me no end−that in a bustling and busy city, people could just disappear off the streets without any witnesses. I was more inclined to think that bystanders often caught glimpses of events that they did not think were significant, or were too selfish or scared to involve themselves in. Most of our victims had disappeared within a ten mile radius of the university campus−another tie that strengthened my conviction that someone from there was involved.

Despite the parallels between victims, something about Viktoria's death nagged me. While her hair was long and brown, the color was artificial and conveniently provided by a bottle. Her natural color was fire-engine red, a trait she apparently hated and had disguised for some time. Hers was also the only body wrapped. She had been found rolled in a carpet, which had been tightly trussed with rope. She was also fully clothed. While a couple of the others had been partially dressed, the remaining victims had all been naked. Even Bella had been found in a state of undress, clad only in underwear that was not her own. The inclusion of the rug was a bit of a forensic windfall, as it had a thick pile perfect for trapping fibers, hairs and other helpful matter.

That sort of post-mortem behavior—protecting and leaving the victim's original clothing intact—usually indicated that the perp had some tie or familiarity with the victim. It was a development that would be helpful for our investigation, since Viktoria knew very few people. She had boarded with a Russian couple who were both lawyers and apparently were friends of her family. The couple worked long hours and rarely spent time at home. They weren't aware of Viktoria having any regular friends or a boyfriend. The team assigned to investigate her death would be interviewing her classmates over the next few days.

As her case was clearly a homicide, it had been delegated to the detectives. Alec was usually a pretty easy-going guy, but his new partner, Jane, had only recently passed the exam and won her promotion. There was always fierce competition when an opening became available, and being mindful of this, Jane closely guarded every development on their cases, working aggressively and obsessively to apprehend their perps. While in practical terms this meant her efforts would work to our advantage, it would be like pulling teeth to find out any inside information. As Jasper's classmate from the academy, she saw him as potential competition and hated him from the first time they had met. This meant Jasper would have to work his inside contacts in a more circuitous route than he usually took.

The university had been as helpful as they were able. We had lists of employees, class timetables, students, and even the names of every delivery service utilized by anyone connected with the university. It was a never-ending task of cross-referencing and checking, a job that seemed to get bigger and bigger the more we delved into it. All new teaching staff had to undergo a background check as part of their employment, and therefore most had a blemish-free past, criminally speaking. This rule did not universally apply to pre-existing employees, though. Additionally, there were many others coming into contact with students as well, such as in the food and service sectors, who were not as vigorously screened.

The DNA that Bella had managed to collect when she was attacked in the hospital had been a dead end as no match was found, which had been a big disappointment at the time. Although we had more victims, it still felt as if we were no closer to identifying the person responsible.

With a frustrated sigh, I returned downstairs to our workstation, planning to cross-reference vehicle registration and types with the university employee register. The perp had to have some sort of car or van big enough to transport his victims. Just as I was logging onto the DMV database, Jasper approached.

"Hey, man, Garrett on the front desk said we have a visitor. Let's go talk to the guy."

"Who is it?" I asked, not really wanting to be distracted, but curious all the same.

"Dunno, but he was asking for us by name."

We made our way to the interview rooms as Jasper referred to a colored message slip to find the right cubicle number. Through the small reinforced glass window set at the top of the door, we could see a large man, who looked to be in his sixties, as he sat next to a diminutive woman. He was clean-shaven; his hair was combed tidily, and his button up shirt and knit cardigan were both neat and spotless. Despite the change in his appearance, I instantly recognized the man.

"Hey, that's the guy we took to the hospital a couple of months ago for sectioning as an involuntary psych patient. You know? The guy that was stuck to his chair?" I looked at Jasper to see if he knew who I was talking about.

His nose wrinkled unconsciously as if remembering the smell rather than the person.

I pushed the door open, and sitting across from the couple, I introduced us both. The woman spoke, introducing herself as Claire, Mr. Jenks' case worker.

"Omar insisted we come see you. As you may remember, he was very unwell when you first met and has been having extensive treatment for his illness since. As he has gotten better, his memory of a particular event just prior to his hospitalization has come to trouble him more and more. His doctor thinks that it's a valid memory and not a hallucination, and is therefore worth reporting." She turned to her charge. "Omar, would you like to relate to the policemen what you saw that day?"

In a low and gruff voice, the man described watching as a van pulled into the mouth of an alley where he was hiding. He told of a male dressed in black clothing and a cape or flowing coat, who grabbed a young woman off the street before shoving her into the van and driving off. From the pocket of his cardigan, Omar drew out a ripped piece of newspaper. The scrap of paper was a report about the discovery of Bree Tanner's body and included her picture. I looked at it, awestruck with the excitement of a break-through, while Jasper started firing questions.

It seemed Omar had been having very paranoid thoughts at the time, hence the reason he had been hiding in the alley. He didn't intervene because he was scared that the "black angel of death" would take him, too. The van he saw was white with some sort of advertising on the side, perhaps even a store or business name, but he couldn't remember really focusing on that at the time. I felt a brief surge of adrenaline, recalling that a van bearing a similar description had been seen in the vicinity where Nettie Parker's body had been found.

Omar knew the girl he saw by sight, since she lived a few buildings away from his own, and he had often seen her walking to and from school. He found the picture reporting her murder a few days before when using an old newspaper to wrap kitchen scraps in while he was still in the hospital, and was convinced this was the same girl he had seen. It had taken a few days for the doctors to be sure of the authenticity of what Omar was remembering.

Jasper pressed for an address of the scene, which Omar remembered as being close to his home. Omar assured us that it was accurate; he had been a postman for many years and took in addresses and mailbox numbers by habit. It was not far from Bree's home, if I remembered correctly. Best of all, he was able to give us a limited description. The man he saw was of medium build, shorter than Omar, and had shoulder-length black hair. He was quite certain of this, too, recalling being somewhat surprised that the Angel of Death was not built to more impressive dimensions. The abductor's hair had been unbound and obscured his face, so we didn't have any features or an age estimate to work with.

Later, as I sat furiously scribbling notes while Jasper showed our visitors out, I couldn't help but think back to what Bella had told me of her recurring nightmare. She kept dreaming that Professor Snape from Harry Potter was trying to kill her. Like almost everyone else with a TV, I had seen the movie trailer. Snape was a man of average height and build with longish, greasy black hair. It was another piece of information that seemed too coincidental to ignore. The difficulty would be convincing anyone else that information from a man being treated for significant mental health issues was a reliable source.

Regardless of its origin, Mr. Jenks' news was valuable. Although we couldn't discard any possible suspect, we would be paying particular attention to males who fitted those physical characteristics. I had previously separated the list of employees into male and female, and spent the remainder of our shift further dividing the list into men with dark hair by cross-referencing names with license pictures from the DMV database.

When we arrived at work the next day, we found we had been assigned to assist with some basic investigation groundwork. We were to sort through some items Alec and Jane had seized during a search in the hope that they would have further evidence to secure an arrest. It seemed that their questioning of Viktoria's classmates had paid off. Her fellow students had seen her in the company of the same man a few times, the unlikely coupling being somewhat noteworthy, since the other person in question was a campus employee. They had brought the man in to help with their enquires and had managed to obtain a search warrant for his home soon after.

As directed, we reported to the forensic department upstairs, and after signing the numerous forms required to record the handover of evidence, we were directed to an empty lab lined with computer terminals. I opened the box we had been given to find a pile of DVDs labeled in neat handwriting with a number and month. Our instructions were simple. Watch and document every person, and compile a list with the date and number of appearances. We had been given no other information to go by−not the location or venue, or what type of footage we would be viewing. With a sense of trepidation and a little anticipation, I put on a set of headphones and followed the computer prompts to run the DVD as Jasper did the same on another computer beside me.

When the images flickered to life on the screen, it took me barely a second to register what I was seeing−or rather, _where_ I was seeing. It was a restroom, a ladies bathroom, judging by the row of stalls and lack of a urinal. My eyes briefly flickered over to Jasper's screen to see if he was viewing a similar scene. His outlook was from inside a stall, the camera floor level and tilted at such an angle to gain a clear view of whomever would be using the toilet.

It looked like we had a kinky voyeur on our hands.

Turning back to my screen, I watched as a young woman came into view before disappearing into a stall. After a few minutes, she emerged to wash her hands and primp in front of the mirror. She reapplied her lipstick, fluffed her hair, and rearranged her bra beneath her shirt, making sure her cleavage was prominent yet even. I picked up a large notepad and referring to the date and time legend in the corner of the screen, documented the arrival and departure time of subject one, also noting the number of the disc. We continued working side by side in silence for a while until I heard a sharp intake of breath from Jasper.

"Hey, Edward? I think it's her, the latest one."

I looked over to his screen and peered closer at the woman who was resituating her clothing. I asked him to rewind the footage again, wanting to be as sure as I could be.

"Yeah, I think it's her, too," I agreed.

It was Viktoria Petrovska. Jasper scribbled on his notepad and highlighted the entry, firing off a brief text message while I got back to work. As far as we could gather, the number on the disc seemed to identify each particular bathroom targeted by the voyeur. Each disc contained several hours' worth of material, and the box contained about twenty discs. During one of our brief coffee breaks, Jasper disappeared for a while, until he finally returned with an update of Alec and Jane's investigation.

James Davis was in his mid-twenties and worked as a sub-contractor with one of the cleaning crews. It seemed that the suspect had admitted to knowing Viktoria after being confronted with reports of the numerous witnesses who reported seeing them together. The man insisted she was his girlfriend, although he stated it was a secret affair. He had said Viktoria hadn't told anyone about him because his boss had made it clear when he first started working that any relationships on the job were strictly forbidden. The suspect was still adamant that the last time he had seen her, she had been very much alive, and had been leaving his apartment. After questioning his neighbors, the detectives had a confirmed sighting of her entering the building, but she had not been seen leaving. Another resident reported sounds of an argument. Alec and Jane were able to get a search warrant for Mr. Davis' home and had found enough physical evidence there to hold him for further questioning. Jasper said he hadn't lawyered up yet, so he suspected Alec and Jane hadn't yet placed him under official arrest.

Sometime later, my eyes were becoming dry and scratchy, and I had the beginnings of a headache when I saw another familiar face. I paused on the image and nudged Jasper. I had been scanning footage marked July. It wasn't taking as long to forward through that disc, as it was taken during the holiday break when most of the students were away. The girls in this one were also younger than those I had seen on the other discs, and when I recognized Bree Turner, I realized why. Bree had attended a school holiday program for high school students, so this had to have been filmed around that time period. Jasper ducked downstairs to fetch some other photos we had on file to confirm it was her, while I went to sit in his chair to wait. Leaving my own monitor paused on the image of Bree, I resumed fast-forwarding through empty footage on Jasper's computer to pass the time, until the next girl came into view. A hunched woman dressed in beige and browns darted in, her bent head and her long hair masking her features. As she washed her hands after using the facilities, she briefly looked up into the mirror.

Suddenly, my eyes weren't dry and tired anymore. My heart started thundering in my chest and my palms began to sweat. Every hair on my body stood to attention as I broke out in goose flesh.

_That sick fucker had been watching her. _

There, in front of me, was the shadow of the woman I loved. _My Bella_.


	37. Chapter 36

**Many thanks to my amazing beta team of Ragsstone and ShowtunesJesus, and to my talented friend Bower_of_Bliss.**

**I wish I was standing in some grand ballroom, wearing a gorgeous and flattering glitzy evening dress while I tearfully sniffed my way through a heartfelt speech. Instead, I'm wearing my jammie pants while I sit at my sons desk typing away. Thanks to all the wonderful people who voted for me in The Emerging Swan Awards. Raum and I tied for the title of Best Newbie Author. I am extremely touched and honored with all the support this story has received, and thank you all for your wonderful messages and votes. I wish I could hug you all.**

**Some of you may recognize the first portion of this from a teaser I sent for reviews after chapter 17.**

**Smeyer owns it all. I may not be on any best seller list, but I'm happy with what my writing has brought me :)**

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**Chapter 36**

_**The stalker **_

She was back, like a tempting morsel dangled in front of me, just waiting to be consumed by an appreciative connoisseur.

She was my prize, my treasure, fashioned for my pleasure alone.

I examined her as closely as I dared in my current setting, which was hardly the preferred environment for paying homage to my siren. It had been some time since I'd had the opportunity to indulge myself in the unimpeded sight of her.

From the moment I had first laid eyes on her, everything about her had called to me—her enticing visage, her meekness and timidity, and especially her naïveté. She was the perfect personification of all I desired.

But she was also very elusive.

She had thwarted my plans more than once.

After careful reconnaissance and strategizing for months, I had executed my masterful scheme to possess her. Once she was totally in my thrall, I had inspected every inch of her, confirming that she possessed the requisite properties that made her the ultimate pinnacle of all my fantasies.

When she had roused from her chemical restraint, my ungrateful ingénue had begun working on her physical ones while I was otherwise occupied, and she showed unexpected stamina applying herself to the almost impossible task. To my gall, her feistiness had ruined certain facets of how I envisioned my carefully constructed scenario to be played out, and my rage had surged as my carefully constructed plans began to go awry. I had reacted instantly and viciously, the red haze taking over.

Afterwards, I had stood panting, haranguing myself for my loss of control and further exacerbating the disintegration of my illusory utopia.

I had fled, needing time and distance to develop alternative arrangements since my perfect quarry was no longer useful to me in the complete manner I had desired. I had managed to salvage a portion of my scheme through the collection of some of her life essence, but I had been denied her other, more enticing properties.

I had expected that my eternal nemesis–death—had claimed my treasure. To my surprise, I learned that the police had recovered her, damaged but salvageable.

My rage had overtaken me again and that time, I had given it freedom to play out as it might. When the haze had cleared sufficiently, I found that I had ensnared another irresistible morsel. Although not as desirable as my ingénue, she had mimicked her in the necessary ways—that is, all ways but one. That prey had been so much younger, too, to be sullied in such a way already. When I had discovered the desired property lacking, the resulting frenzy had been…ferocious. While I had been sated, I was not satisfied and I had dwelled on my frustration endlessly.

I had maintained an intermittent vigil at her bolt hole and had been exultant when I observed her return. I had feasted on the sight of her as I contemplated various tactics to ensure she would be mine and mine alone. Sadly, my hand had been forced when, somehow, she detected my presence. I had made a misguided attempt to procure my treasure but aborted my efforts when she called for reinforcements. Although vexing, I consoled myself that since she had returned there, she would eventually reappear in my favorite fishing pool.

So I had waited, biding my time and amusing myself with less worthy but still somewhat… stimulating amusements.

Until, at last, I saw she had returned to me, seemingly ripe and ready for me to resume the pursuit of my original scheme.

I watched her, chary of the myriad of changes in her appearance and carriage. She had shed some of that delightful timidity but had gained an incandescence that proved to be a worthy and appealing exchange. I resumed my veneration of her from afar, anxious to reacquaint myself with her new routine and rhythm. Despite her attempts at casualness, I detected a new wariness…she was more cautious and did not follow the same reliable routines as she once had. With growing scorn, I spied her escort, a new development that I would have to be mindful of when strategizing our reunion.

I would have to proceed with more caution this time as my recent…activities…had attracted far too much notice from disapproving sources.

They would never understand my supremacy over the world of the mundane. They would never recognize my transcendent nature unless I divulged it myself. I was not yet ready to make this revelation, and would not be equipped to do so until I had accumulated the necessary power to assert my sovereignty over the lowly cattle of humanity.

Until then, I would amuse and gratify myself by pursuing my elusive ingénue. She would be mine in _every_ way.

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**Sorry for the brevity of this chapter but it's best not to linger in the sicko psycho's head too long. I promise all the coming ones are much longer. **

**If you need something to get you through the week, Bower_of_Bliss has a wonderful new drabble fic called "Drowning, not waving." It has Edward wearing swim shorts *waggles eyebrows***


	38. Chapter 37

**My lovely beta's, Ragsstone and ShowtunesJesus make sure I put my comma's and verbs in the right place. Thanks, team.**

**No more short chapters, I promise.**

**SMeyer wrote a story and got very rich. I wrote a fanfic and got...well, I haven't given up my day job *sighs wistfully***

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**Chapter 37**

_**Bella**_

**Monday – Wednesday early am **

As I showered and dressed, I tried to still my growing apprehension and mentally prepare myself for the day's activities. Although I was thankful for the chance of a practice run before my return to school in two days' time, my stomach was in a constant state of knots. Extensive plans had been made for my transit to and fro, but during the day when I would be on campus, I was going to be essentially on my own.

Even though Edward was accompanying me on today's foray, I still prepared as if I were going out alone. First, I twisted up my hair and secured it with my lock picks. Between the subtle layers of padding in my bra, I tucked a small coiled length of garrote wire. I pulled on a white long-sleeved tee before wriggling into some dark gray skinny cargo pants. I had chosen the pants for the additional pockets−specifically the long thin one running along the thigh, which was the perfect casing for my small telescopic metal baton. Although a slim fit, they were not tight enough to restrict my movements if I need to run or fight. Over the top of my t-shirt, I added a short denim vest, which, like everything else, had pockets. Instead of the usual metal toggle at the end of the zip fastener on the waist pocket, I had added a small silver whistle. It may have looked like a cute and decorative charm, but it emitted a very real and earsplittingly-shrill sound when blown.

I stood in front of the mirror, checking my appearance with a critical eye as I threaded a black leather belt though the waistband of my pants. Although I wanted the discrete storage the numerous pockets would provide, I didn't want to end up looking like a frumpy fisherman either. Satisfied that I still looked casual enough to pass as an average student, I slipped into my black suede shoes and tied the laces tightly.

I distributed my precious items carefully, not wanting to put everything in any one garment, in case it was taken from me. My favorite toy, the pocket-rocket taser, went in my pants, the pepper spray in my vest, and a personal alarm in my t-shirt. Another alarm was disguised as a Celtic serpent pendant, which hung around my neck on a leather thong. Besides its functional and protective purpose, it was a powerful symbol of strength in Celtic lore, and it made me feel like I was wearing an additional layer of armor each time I put it on. Edward had given me the beautiful and useful gift for my birthday a couple of weeks back. Picking up my cuff watch, I checked inside the leather band to make sure the small double-sided razor blade was still safely sheathed and concealed within. I added the silver cuff bracelet to my other wrist to hide the thin pink scars still circling my wrists. They had faded with continued massage and the religious application of skin treatment, but I was still somewhat self-conscious about exposing them in public. The cuff bracelet had a hidden purpose as well; a small GPS chip was embedded inside. If the worst came to fruition, my disappearance would not be missed a second time.

Despite countless discussions about carrying a knife and gun, I knew that I would never get away with packing heat while I was at school, and I didn't want to be lulled into a false sense of security or reliance on such weapons anyway. I was sure a kidnapper would find these things immediately. No, I needed to think outside the box and use otherwise innocent everyday items, just as Rose and Emmett had taught me.

Picking up the small bag I was using as a purse, I slung the strap diagonally across my body, patting it down to make sure my phone was still safely tucked inside. Bolstered by the secret knowledge of my hidden arsenal, I left the loft and went to join Edward downstairs. He was standing near his car and talking with Jasper. I could tell by the stiff set of his shoulders that Edward was nervous, too, and tension radiated off every inch of his body.

We'd had more than one heated discussion about today's visit. If Edward had gotten his way, he and Jasper would be escorting me in their squad car while wearing their uniforms, and together they would have marched me all over campus in a blatant show of arms and authority. I'd missed the usual time period allowed to re-register completely online because of my injuries and memory loss, making the trip to the university necessary. In the end, we agreed to a compromise. I would do my registration in person, as well as purchasing my textbooks and getting my class schedule. Edward would accompany me to do some plainclothes site surveillance and meet with campus security.

It had been a minefield of negotiation discussing how he would behave. I had visions of him dressed in black and wearing sunglasses, either hanging all over me like a possessive Neanderthal or threatening everyone who came within fifty feet of me like a personal bodyguard. Carefully phrasing my request, making sure I told him how much I loved him and his affectionate touching, I asked him to be more reserved while we were at school. If the stalker was still watching me, I didn't want to tip him off for a number of reasons.

Firstly, I didn't want to put anyone else at risk, and if the stalker knew I had a boyfriend, Edward might become a target. That was something I wanted to avoid at all costs. If the stalker worked out that Edward was a police officer, the danger would only increase, and he might use a different type of weapon than those of the past. Although I couldn't remember what had happened during the assault or how he had taken me in the first place, I hadn't been stabbed or shot. If he thought that Edward was involved, though, he might use a deadlier weapon.

Secondly, I didn't want the stalker to target another student, although I knew I had little influence over that, really. If he was out there looking for me−and I was certain he was−then I wanted him to think I was still ripe for the taking, and therefore avoid the possibility of him wreaking havoc on someone else's life. I didn't want his behavior or methods to change too dramatically. I wanted him to think I was still alone and helpless, knowing that with my tools and training, I wasn't quite as vulnerable and defenseless as I had been in the past.

Edward being Edward, he wouldn't accept my initial explanation and made me outline my reasoning for the halt on PDA in detail. He had gone deathly white, and I almost thought he was going to accuse me of acting stupidly again. All he had done was cling to me, begging me over and over not to put myself in harm's way. It didn't matter how many times I promised, every time I talked about my return to university, he looked at me as if I were discussing my own execution.

Although it was not quite nine o'clock, we left since he and Jasper had to start work at eleven. Once we got there, Edward dutifully followed me around, playing the role of polite attendant rather than fretful boyfriend. We visited all the buildings I would have classes in, as well as mapping put the safest points for my drop-off and pick-up each day. We also paid a visit to the campus head of security and met some of his staff. They were expecting us, since Edward had phoned ahead to explain the circumstances of my previous attacks and to arrange a meeting. They were very accommodating and gave me a map marking every possible room and building exit and each campus security post. I was also given a direct number to the phone usually carried by the person in charge of security every shift. I had to quote a special code word if I felt threatened or wanted assistance. Feeling somewhat calmer, Edward came with me to the bookstore before we returned home.

After Edward left for work, I tried to quell my restless agitation by painting. It was a complete disaster; the canvas was smeared with dark colors bleeding together, making my work look like a moonless and stormy night. I just couldn't relax enough to get into the head space where ideas flowed effortlessly. Choosing mindless domestic labor instead, I did laundry, cleaned the loft, made brownies over in the main house, and prepared dinner. I trained, running through my kung fu forms in an unsuccessful effort to calm myself. Later in the evening, I practiced with a new ferocity, backing down only when Emmett started to complain that he was going to need to add another layer of padding.

When I finally fell into bed that night, my body ached everywhere yet my mind was still racing, envisioning all manner of scenarios featuring the stalker and my school. I was still awake and tossing restlessly when Edward got home just after midnight. Dropping his bag by the door, he flopped down next to me on the bed.

"Hi, gorgeous. Can't sleep, huh?" he asked, running his long fingers soothingly though the ends of my hair.

"I just can't shut off my head. I keep thinking…well, I'm sure you're doing the same thing. I can't help thinking that if he's going to be anywhere, it'll be there."

"Yeah. I feel the same. I wish I could lock you in here forever and keep you safe."

We lay facing each other, gazing into one another's eyes. Bit by bit, I felt the worry within me ease with Edward's proximity. I lifted up my hand to stroke his cheek, allowing the raspy feel of his emerging stubble to lull and distract me.

"I _have_ to go back. I'm not going to stop living or doing things just because he's out there somewhere. I've prepared myself, we've made plans, and now we just have to see what happens. I'm not a weak little mouse anymore; I'm aware, armed and angry. No one will keep us apart, I promise." I kissed him lightly to punctuate my point.

Gathering me up in a crushing embrace, he held me tightly to him.

"God, Bella," he mumbled into my hair. "You are so strong. Most people would be cowering in their boots just thinking about facing it all."

"Yeah, well most people don't have _you_ to come home to. You make me want to fight anything for more of this." I stroked my hand up and down the firm muscles of his back.

"I…can we…just put all this aside…just for a little while," he begged. "Tomorrow will be our last morning together before real life intrudes. I know I'm working, but could we maybe just hang out here until I have to go in?"

So I spent my last morning of freedom sleeping in and then lying in bed with Edward. We made love in a leisurely and tender manner, enjoying the opportunity to make it last as long as we could. Later, we ate Pop-Tarts and munched dry Fruit Loops straight from the box for a late breakfast. It proved to be the perfect thing to calm and soothe us both, and when Esme picked me up in the evening for a visit to a women's shelter, I was able to enjoy it with my usual vigor. At the end of the day, I crawled into our bed feeling pleasantly tired rather than exhausted and wrung out with anxiety, and had no trouble getting to sleep.

When I was startled awake by a loud noise some time later, I sat bolt upright in the bed, my heart pounding as I over to the alarm clock on Edward's night stand. It was two in the morning. Patting the bed next to me, I realized Edward wasn't in it. Either he hadn't come home yet, or he was taking some time to unwind after his shift ended. Sometimes, if they had a really busy or intense day or something major had gone down, he couldn't come home and just go to sleep straight away. He had explained once that he needed time for the adrenaline to ebb and for his thoughts to slow down. Jumping out of bed, I leaned over to fish out the baseball bat Edward kept hidden underneath. I could hear heavy and hurried footfalls pounding up the stairs outside. I felt the tension ease a little as I recognized the sound was Edward in his work boots. Before he had a chance to put his key in the lock, I dropped the bat, swiftly crossing the room to fling open the door. I was relieved that he was home and wanted nothing more than the simple reassurance of his arms around me.

He stood on the stoop, a look of surprise on his face. As I watched, his expression changed, the green of his eyes clouding with turbulent emotion. Before I had a chance to say anything, he threw his arms around me in a passionate hug, clutching my body to him as my feet left the floor. Kicking the door closed behind him, he carried me inside and spun me around. When he stopped, before I could even catch my breath, his mouth was on mine, both forceful and demanding. His tongue swept along my lips seeking entry, and I acquiesced eagerly. His hands moved frantically over my body as he kissed me, tugging at my shirt and pulling at my sleep pants as if undecided which to remove first. Making up his mind, he scrunched my top up and whipped it off my body. His own shirt disappeared quickly, and soon after he shoved his pants down his hips, snagging them with his feet and pushing them off, followed by his socks and boots. I gasped at the sensation of the heat of his erection pressing insistently against my hip as he kissed along my jaw and neck. His tongue swirled, leaving trails of heated moisture on my skin. I shivered with desire and anticipation, feeling my body responding to his fervent and heated attention.

"Fuck, Bella," he groaned. "I want to be gentle and love you right but…I…"

"What is it?" I asked, my voice uneven as my breathing quickened.

"I just need you so much right now," he murmured, bending to kiss along my neck again.

"It's okay, Edward. I'm right here," I assured him. "I'll always be here for you."

My affirmation seemed to ignite his ardor further, and his hand trailed up my side to cup my breast. As his thumb began stroking my nipple, I felt a corresponding surge of desire and dampness between my legs. Edward's other hand grasped mine, leading it straight to his rigid length. Wrapping my fingers gently but firmly around it, I let him guide my movements and show me what he needed. As I gained confidence hearing his appreciative moans, I grew bolder and varied my movements. I rotated my hand slightly as I stroked upward, feeling the increasing slickness Edward emitted smooth the way as he bucked into my hand. He removed his fingers from where they had been guiding mine, instead taking a fistful of the material covering my hips and impatiently yanking both layers down. Releasing my breast, he used both hands to further push down the offending items, until I, too, was naked. His deft fingers darted between my legs, circling restlessly until they found their target. I panted with the surge of sensation as he stroked and teased, ripples of pure pleasure spiraling through me. My movements along his erection became less coordinated as my orgasm rapidly approached, my attention absorbed elsewhere. Edward was relentless, his fingers circling and darting inside me until I stiffened as my climax crashed through me.

Before I had a chance to come down from the high entirely, I became aware of Edward trying to gently free my fingers, where they were attempting to strangle his erection.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! Have I hurt it?" I stammered, worried that I had killed more than the mood.

"Sometimes pain can actually feel good," Edward replied as he bent to circle my hips. Lifting me again, he walked backward until his legs rested against the couch. "The discomfort was the perfect distraction, and now I'll last a bit longer." His voice was low and thick with need. "Watching you come like that is so hot; it makes me want to fuck you forever. I can't wait to be inside you, but I haven't finished having my way with you yet."

Lust raced through me again, searing and needy, as I silently thrilled at his lascivious words.

I had seen Edward in all sorts of moods before, and our love-making had been influenced by them more than once. Our first argument had led to amazing make-up sex, my first time proving memorable for all the right reasons. In the past he had been playful, tender, and passionate, a patient and considerate lover and teacher. This time was different, though. He seemed frantic and driven, his need for me raw and almost primal. The careful and controlled Edward was gone and replaced by a purely carnal being. I couldn't wait to see this other, less restrained Edward; the thought of what we might experience together next excited me.

His hands were still on my hips as I stood before him, and he moved to sit on the sofa, pulling me closer. He bent slightly, placing a searing kiss and then a lick just above my pubic bone. Sliding a hand down my thigh and grabbing behind my knee, he lifted it, placing my foot beside is bare leg. Before I even had time to register what he was planning, his mouth was on me−wet, hot, and arousing. My hands fluttered uselessly before I put one on his shoulder to steady myself, the other covering his as it held my hip to keep me in place. Still sensitive from my recent orgasm, it wasn't long before I was a panting, trembling mess again.

"Please, please, please…" I begged, not even sure what I was asking for, hypnotized by the feel of his tantalizing tongue, just knowing I wanted more.

"God, I love the taste of you. You are amazing," he murmured briefly before returning to his task.

My legs started to shake as I neared the peak again, and I had no control over the constant moans and whimpers that fell unchecked from my lips. As everything exploded within me, I clutched at Edward's hair, almost collapsing on him with the strength of it. Lavishing my sensitive flesh with one last flick of his tongue, he smiled up at me triumphantly, his eyes hooded and salacious. Shuffling back farther onto the sofa, Edward pulled me over on top of him, arranging me so I was straddling him. Getting the idea quickly, I readjusted myself, lining him up so I could take him in. Grasping the back of the couch to steady myself, I sunk onto his length with a blissful sigh as Edward grunted with pleasure beneath me.

_This_ was what I had been begging for: the feeling of Edward surrounding and filling me, so deep and so _good_. As he began moving and thrusting beneath me, I closed my eyes and threw back my head, overwhelmed by the stimulation everywhere−the feel of my hair brushing and tickling along my buttocks, the sensation of our sweat-slickened skin gliding together, the stroke and power of his rigidness entering me over and over. They all melded together to heighten my arousal.

"I love the way you taste and feel on my tongue here−" he tugged my nipple lightly, "−and here." He touched me where we were joined together so perfectly. I moaned loudly, driven higher by his fingers.

"I love way you sound when you come, all sexy and breathy. It makes me want to bury myself in you again and again."

I opened my eyes, staring down into the intense depths of his.

"I love it when come around my cock." He pushed into me forcefully, brushing that spot that made me gasp and quiver again. "You feel so…" thrust "…damn…" thrust "…good…"

Every nerve ending in my body thrummed in a constant state of ecstasy as one orgasm washed into another. It was like riding a wave of pure rapture.

"Do you like what I do to you? How I fuck you?" he demanded.

"Holy…shit! God, I love the way you fuck me," I panted out, feeling wild and uninhibited.

Edward responded with increased fervor, pounding into me over and over as he gripped my hips.

"You're mine!" he asserted, his voice almost a growl "...I'm the only one…who gets to touch you like this!"

His movements became more spasmodic as he neared his own pinnacle, and I could feel myself teeter on the cusp of another, too, as I cried "Yes!" in answer.

The world appeared to ripple around us as my sight hazed and the sound in my ears roared. Everything receded to focus on the point where Edward and I were joined so intimately and completely, as the most powerful and intense climax yet consumed me.

_Earth-shattering._ As I came back to earth, my legs were quivering and boneless, and my sides heaving as I waited for my breathing to calm. _This is what it's like to have multiple orgasms._

"That was…incredible," I mumbled into the back of the couch where I had collapsed on top of Edward. His head burrowed into my shoulder, and I felt the rapid rise and fall of our joined bodies as he, too, attempted to control his breathing.

"Mmm," he agreed, gently kissing my collarbone. When he spoke again, his words made me forget everything around me for a different reason.

"We've got him…your stalker. He's never going to hurt you ever again."


	39. Chapter 38

**Thanks, as always, to my beta/mentors ShowtunesJesus and Ragsstone.**

**Surprise! Early update! The end is in sight, so I will be updating as soon as each chapter is beta'd.**

**Since we are nearing the end, if you'd like to suggest a scene for an outtake, I will consider all requests. I can't promise there will be many, or if I will add them weekly.**

**SMeyer had a dream. I had a migraine, so you had to wait another day for this chapter. Sorry.**

* * *

**Chapt****er 38**

_**Edward**_

**Wednesday-Friday**

"_We've got him…your stalker. He's never going to hurt you ever again."_

I had been waiting months to say those words to Bella, desperate to relieve her of the constant uncertainty and fear. I knew we would never be truly free until he was caught, both of us too aware of how easily our pleasant bubble of togetherness could be shattered. I had even rehearsed how and where I would tell her, envisioning all sorts of pleasant and grandiose scenarios. What I had not counted on was the strength of my own reaction. As Bella sat on my lap, looking astonished at my post-coital revelation, my mind relived the events again.

At work, when I had seen her appear on the screen before me in a bathroom at the university, my heart had immediately started racing. The anger had come next, boiling up and bursting forth in a torrent of poison. Before I had even thought about it, I was in the elevator and on my way downstairs.

I strode through to the interview area, snarling my demand at the nearest officer in an attempt to locate the right room. The poor man looked alarmed and informed me he would have to get permission from Alec and Jane for me to observe their interrogation of the fucker responsible for harming my girl. I paced up and down as he had a whispered conversation with someone on the phone. He hung up and informed me someone would come to escort me inside. Soon after, I felt a heavy hand settle on my shoulder.

"They're going to let us observe, but only if you promise to keep yourself in check." Jasper stared back me, giving me his most forthright look, the one that meant I would get my ass handed to me if I stepped out of line. "This isn't our party anymore−"

I cut him off with a wave of my hand.

"Did you see it? He watched her! I can't stand back and do nothing!"

"You can and will if you want them to collar him properly." Jasper put both hands on my shoulders. "If you fuck it up or fuck him up now, he could get off. Do you really want that?"

I let my breath out in a frustrated groan, knowing he was right but too agitated to admit it yet. Searching my face, Jasper didn't release me until he was confident I had myself under some semblance of control. When he was sure I would behave, we were ushered into an observation booth adjoining the room where James Davis was being grilled.

He looked so ordinary. I was shocked by that; in my own imagination I had pictured him as deviant-looking as his behavior indicated he was. He appeared to be in his late twenties. He was slightly above average height and had longish, dark brown hair. It looked like it might be dyed, though, as the harsh fluorescent lighting highlighted a narrow band of lighter brown at the roots. Everything about him seemed nondescript: his dress, his appearance and his manner. There was nothing that marked him as different, and it would have been difficult to pick him out of a line up.

We watched and listened for four hours as he was questioned. He hadn't requested a lawyer yet and hadn't been charged with anything. He maintained his unflappable and cocky calm for the first two hours, at which point Jane and Alec took a break. Jasper stepped out as well, eager to see and hear what developments had occurred behind the scenes. I stood in the dark and continued my study of the monster behind the glass. He stayed seated in his chair and appeared completely unfazed, finishing his coffee before casually shredding the wax-paper cup.

Half an hour later, I could tell by her confident stride that Jane had learned something important when she and Alec returned to the room. With all the tenacity of a pit bull terrier, she started peppering him with questions and accusations, not letting any little comment or admission slide. It seemed the search of his apartment had continued while James had been assisting the detectives, and it had uncovered some further damning evidence. A large area rug was missing from the living room floor. The apartment had been let furnished, and the landlord had supplied a full inventory of every item that should have been there. The investigation team had found traces of blood and strands of hair in his home and in the white work van he drove. Besides the hidden box of DVDs, they had found a stash of items which appeared stolen. Alec rattled off part of the list, after informing him they were still cataloguing items. I almost lost it again when he mentioned an iPod marked with the name _B. Swan_.

Trophies! The sick fucker kept trophies of his victims.

Jane threw a thick folder on the table and began reciting the contents without looking at them. A background check had found that Davis had a sealed juvenile record and a history of assaulting another woman. This charge had been withdrawn after the woman failed to attend the court hearing. She had later been listed as officially missing. Under the three strikes ruling, they had been able to access his previous juvenile record, which demonstrated he had a pattern of voyeurism and theft of underwear items from clotheslines and laundromats. Davis became pale and began fidgeting, explaining he had moved across country and had changed his name from Jens Draeven to the more anglicized James Davis in an attempt to make a clean start in a new place. His mother had been Russian born, his limited knowledge of the language enough to give him an in with Viktoria. Lonely and homesick, she had been easy pickings, reassured by James' seemingly nice and non-threatening manner. He had no trouble befriending her and getting close to her over time, a fact he quite openly admitted.

The investigation team had found emails Viktoria sent to a girlfriend back home. In them, she wrote of his attempts to make their relationship physical, which was something she had no interest in at that time.

Alec and Jane also showed him witness statements taken from his neighbors. Two hours and another break later, the incriminating evidence piled up as Davis got more defensive. Finally, in a rush of jumbled words, he confessed to murdering the young woman. He cried as he described trying to kiss her after he pinned her against the kitchen counter with the weight of his body. She tried to push him away, but he kept at it, hoping to excite her. When he had tried to touch her, she grabbed a knife off the counter and slashed him with it. Davis tried to make the detectives feel sorry for him, showing them the scabbed mark across his chest. It was long and deep enough to strain the butterfly Band-Aids he had clumsily applied to close the edges. His voice became outraged as he told them he just couldn't let a woman do that to him. He had wrestled the knife from her and in his anger, had turned it on her. It had been her own fault, he stated over and over, never once saying he loved her or was sorry for how it ended.

After he regained some of his earlier calm, he sullenly begged for a lawyer. Once one arrived, James Davis was formally charged with the homicide of Viktoria Petrovska. Further charges relating to stalking and the unlawful surveillance on university property were pending and would be laid once the illicit footage was fully examined and cataloged. Additionally, he was notified they would be questioning him further in the days to come about the items recovered in his apartment and their relation to other violent crimes. Alec and Jane also officially requested for Jasper and me to hand over all records pertaining to our investigation of the other murders to establish if he had been involved. The evidence looked incriminating. He'd had access, he had watched some of the victims we had grouped together, and it seemed he had items in his possession that belonged to at least one of those victims.

At first I couldn't believe it was all over. Davis had never even been on our radar. He was a subcontractor and therefore had never appeared on the list of employees we had been examining so closely. Now someone was in custody, our little sideline investigation was considered plausible and therefore big news. The detectives would take over any further analysis and enquiries, effectively ending our active involvement. I wasn't yet sure how I felt about that, my primary thoughts consumed by Bella and the potential impact this would have on her.

My previous angry agitation had not dissipated entirely and manifested itself instead in a cagey restlessness once the formalities were concluded. A mixture of emotions cycled through me: relief, elation, anger, curiosity, and hostility. Sensing my turmoil, Jasper insisted we wait as they led Davis out for processing, making sure he would be gone from our floor before we left the booth. We headed back upstairs to pack up and turn over our abandoned work before clocking off. Knowing Bella would be fast asleep when I got home altered all my fancifully constructed daydreams of breaking the news, adding to my edginess.

As we drove home, I kept turning over images from the day, deliberating over Bella's potential reactions and working out how much I could tell her without violating any confidentiality regulations.

"Man, you're jiggling like a cat on a hot tin roof!" exclaimed Jasper, effectively distracting me from my self-absorbed thoughts. He pointed at my leg, halted as it was mid-bounce. I hadn't even been aware I was doing it. We were almost home, and I couldn't remember a single thing about the drive there, the trip passing unnoticed since I had been so engrossed with my ruminations.

"You better settle down before you go inside, or you'll give her a fright," Jasper warned. "Bella's been so nervous about going to back to school that she's likely to act first and think later. She's got some good moves on her now, and she might do you some damage if you sneak up on her acting so strung-out."

"I know. I just…I can't believe it's over." I had dreams of us marching home like a conquering army, bragging about how our efforts had single-handedly brought down her attacker. Instead, another team had caught him, and someone else got to wring a confession out of him. I was feeling a little conviction envy, as stupid as it sounded.

"Forget all that shit for now, Edward. She's safe, and he can't ever do anything to hurt her again. That's what this was all about."

"Yes," I agreed, his words sinking in and erasing everything else. "Fuck, yeah!" A huge weight left my shoulders, and suddenly my brain was flooded with plans for the future, a future now full of a Bella free of uncertainty and fear. My mood instantly brightened and I couldn't wait to get home to tell her. As soon as Jasper pulled into the driveway, I threw a hasty goodnight over my shoulder as I left the car hurriedly, eager to wake her. Just as I was about to unlock the door, it opened, and standing there was…my future.

When I saw her, I reacted instantly, all the emotion I had barely kept in check all night bursting forth. I needed to have her, to possess every bit of her as if to reassure myself that she was mine, free of all encumbrances and other claims. I forgot about everything else except for Bella, desperate for the safety, comfort, and affirmation of our connection. Recognizing that in this state I was too raw and needy for tenderness, I tried to warn her and apologize in advance. With her quiet assurances, she swept away my hesitations, once again the stronger and braver of us, reminding me of all the things I cherished in her. I gave into the feeling and allowed my lust to reign free and act on impulse alone. Gone was the thoughtful and considerate lover, replaced by a frenzied and primal being intent on pleasure alone. I aroused her with constant teasing and lewd words until her almost constant state of orgasm appeased the savage in me, her enjoyment fueling my own. Gratified, I finally claimed her, our union finally satiating and soothing me.

The words about the capture of her stalker were out before I had made the conscious decision to tell her. Straightening up to better look at me, she asked many questions, most of which I didn't yet have the answer for. She didn't know or remember Davis or his victim. Viktoria's death had appeared in the newspapers when her body was discovered, and Davis's arrest would be reported tomorrow, so I was confident that I wasn't breaking any rules by telling her who was involved. As for the resolution of her own case, all I could say for sure was that Alec and Jane would continue examining all angles, but the evidence was pretty compelling. Because of his prior history, Davis would be unlikely to be granted bail, and would therefore be off the streets for some time.

I didn't even register how much time had passed until Bella yawned, which made me aware that since we started talking, she had been sitting naked on my lap for more than two hours. It was now past four in the morning. Picking her up and carrying her to the bathroom, I scolded her for letting me keep her up so long as we brushed our teeth and got ready for bed. Bella was supposed to be getting up in less than three hours for her first morning of classes. At least with school starting on a Wednesday, she wouldn't have to struggle through a whole week feeling sleep-deprived. Cuddling up together in bed, I felt cautiously optimistic, our plans for the future no longer overshadowed by the constant awareness of threat.

I drove Bella to the university, a trip full of laughter and smiles instead of the tension we thought would mark the day when we planned everything so minutely earlier in the week. When I went to work that afternoon, I was itching to find out whether any further evidence had been uncovered that substantiated the link between Davis and any of the other victims. Unfortunately, since Alec and Jane were now in charge of the official pursuit of the case, our workload concessions were deemed no longer necessary, and we were assigned a full list of duties that kept us busy and out of the precinct all shift. When we returned to clock off, we were able to find out that Davis' lawyer had advised him not to cooperate with anything that might arise in separate charges. His cooperation, while desirable, was not indispensable; if enough physical and circumstantial verification could be obtained, an indictment could proceed regardless.

Bella was deeply asleep when I crawled in beside her that night, clearly exhausted by our activities in the early hours and her first full day on campus. Over a hurried breakfast the next morning, she told me all about her subjects and the new friend she made, a girl called Angela, who would be sharing three of her classes. As I drove her in, she talked about maybe taking the bus soon, now that we no longer had to worry about the stalker. With a brief kiss, she was gone again, and, missing her already, I consoled myself with thoughts of the coming days, which I had off. The only thing that made my shift pass quicker was the series of flirty texts I received from Bella. It seemed she was pining for some couple time, too.

After another busy shift, I could hardly keep my eyes open when I dragged myself through the door. I could tell by the state of the bed clothes that Bella had been restless even in sleep. I was instantly concerned, worried that something had upset her and frustrated that our clashing timetables meant that we had little opportunity for quality time at the moment. Offering her what comfort I could without waking her, I held her close and stroked her hair until I joined her in sleep.

It was a restless night for both of us, since Bella twitched and moaned in her sleep, rousing me frequently. Although she often spoke when dreaming, that night everything was mumbled and unintelligible. Even though she settled with a few soothing words and a brief touch, nothing seemed to help for long.

In the morning I was droopy-eyed and irritable, determined to find out the cause of her overnight unease. When I questioned her about it over breakfast, she brushed my concern aside, explaining that the stress of starting school had triggered a minor panic attack the day before. She assured me she was okay, and although she had been troubled by some vague unsettling dreams, she was feeling much more her normal self this morning. She still seemed somewhat distracted as I drove her to school, though, which made me worry that she had understated the severity of yesterday's events. Sighing, I didn't push her, endeavoring to get more details out of her that night, since at last we would be having dinner together on our own.

Bella mentioned that her new friend had invited her to catch up for coffee after classes, an offer I urged her to accept. I wanted to encourage the widening of her social circle, knowing that this was one of the goals in her self-improvement plan. She promised to text me a time and place I could collect her if she did decide to go out with Angela.

Returning home, I spent some time in the gym before studying for a while, something I had neglected since Bella became a welcome fixture in my life. Midmorning, my phone buzzed with an incoming text.

_**Sorry for being so preoccupied this morning. Just tired. Looking forward to a quiet night with just the two of us ;) **_~_**Love & xxxx**_

I smiled at her lengthy note. Bella still steadfastly refused to learn text speak.

I sent my reply: _**Luv U 2**_

Feeling jet-lagged after too many late nights and broken sleep, I lay down for a nap, setting the alarm on my phone so I could pick Bella up on time. When it woke me, I got up feeling refreshed and in a better state of mind, and noticed she had sent another text.

_**Going to Angela's for coffee. Pick me up at 3?**_

I scanned the address. It was in Risdon, about eleven miles south east of the city. It would take me about half an hour to get there. I fired off a text confirming that I would collect her at the appointed time.

As I drove there later, I marveled at how much the area had changed. I had worked highway patrol in that zone four years ago as a new graduate. The township was just off the highway, and it had originally been a supply point for nearby coal fields. During the war, an aircraft manufacturing plant was built not far outside of the residential area, further cementing the area's blue collar background. Since it was so close to the confluence of three highways and within easy driving distance of the city, several sizable manufacturing and technology companies had also set up operation there. This had subsequently led to a boom in the local housing market, and many new residential developments had opened up since I had been there last.

Driving down ancient and cracked pavement, I guessed that Angela must live in an older part of town. The buildings began thinning out, and regular house lots were replaced by larger farmlets with weathered clapboard homes. There were more trees, and thick woodland encroaching on many properties. These houses seemed isolated, both from each other and the town, which suddenly seemed a long distance away.

Getting closer, I started scanning mailboxes for the right house number. At the end of a wall of thick cypress trees, I found the right one. Instead of the usual kitsch miniature barn or milk can, the letter box was a square plastic drum with a small slot cut out for the mail to fit through. Someone had written the number on with Magic Marker, the letters crudely formed and crooked. Pulling in the driveway, I drove along the rutted dirt driveway and passed some ramshackle outbuildings. Someone must have once had some sort of business here for such buildings to come before the house. The house was a little farther in, perched in the middle of a clearing like a toad on a log. It was a simple single story dwelling, and looked squat and down at heel.

Pulling my car over to the edge of the driveway, I wondered why a college girl would invite a new friend home to a place like this. I thought girls were a little more concerned with things like first impressions. Knowing Bella's lack of pretension, I reassured myself that those details would make no difference to her. Mindful of loose steps, I made my way onto the porch and knocked on the peeling front door. Waiting for an answer, I turned back around and absentmindedly scanned the back of the dilapidated sheds and admired the thick screening and privacy the cypress hedge afforded. It was peaceful here, which was probably part of the appeal; no noise or traffic, just the pure sounds of Mother Nature.

I turned around abruptly when I heard the door creak open, taking in the man in front of me. With his jet black hair and unlined face, he looked to be in his late thirties, though something about his dark eyes suggested a greater age, but I couldn't put my finger on what gave me that impression. He was dressed in a black suit that was somewhat dated in style, and also wore a matching waistcoat and white shirt underneath. His hair was combed straight back, adding to his rather odd appearance. He surveyed me candidly, his eyes strangely mesmerizing. I felt the warning prickle as all the hair on the nape of my neck stood to attention.

"Ah, you must be the young man come to fetch Miss Swan." He stood in the doorway, making no move to invite me in.

"Yes, I am. I'm Edward, her boyfriend." For some reason, I felt the need to indicate her status as spoken-for yet felt reluctant to share anything beyond my first name. Steepling his long, thin fingers under his chin, he continued his open contemplation of me.

"So very interesting," he remarked in his strangely intoned voice.

I was beginning to feel increasingly uneasy, eager to get Bella and leave as soon as politely possible.

"Would you mind telling Bella that I'm here?" I asked, trying to imbue my voice with the courteous but commanding tone I used for work.

"Nothing would please me more, young friend, but that will not be possible." He sounded almost regretful, and would have looked it if any emotion was evident in his eyes at all. Immediately after uttering his puzzling statement, he flicked a finger lazily.

I felt a sharp pain in my thigh, followed by an intense and painful blossom of heat. I looked down, startled, and saw a feather-fletched barb lodged in the muscle there. Reacting instinctively, I yanked it, pulling it free. I had been drugged or poisoned! Every instinct kicked into high alert, and training my alarmed gaze on the source of the threat, I fell into a crouch by reflex and went to draw my gun. The trouble was, it was my day off, and I was dressed in casual clothes, never anticipating any sort of hazard doing such a simple errand.

The man continued to watch me dispassionately as I made for the car, my next thought to get to my mobile phone where it still rested on the front seat. My heart was racing in alarm, and I started sweating profusely, and at first I just attributed it to the adrenaline of the situation. As I got closer to my Volvo, my vision altered and everything in my peripheral vision narrowed before disappearing altogether. My movements and thoughts became sluggish and uncoordinated, and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to draw in a full breath. I knew I was in real trouble as the effects of whatever I had been drugged with gained a stronger hold. As I reached for the door handle of the car, I watched as my hand reached out. It appeared to enlarge and then shrink again before wavering.

Like a lunar eclipse, the blackness crept up on me until I knew nothing more.


	40. Chapter 39

**Ragsstone and ShowtunesJesus make sure this story looks pretty and makes sense. Thank you both :)**

**Wow! The response from the last chapter was unprecedented. I promised I wouldn't leave you all waiting with bated breath for a whole week so here we are!**

**Smeyer started all this. They say imitation is the highest form of flattery *shrugs***

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**Chapter 39**

_**Bella**_

All I could say was _thank God it's Friday_.

Examining the bags under my eyes in the mirror as I dressed for school, I mused that the weekend couldn't come quick enough for me. I was over the rollercoaster this week had been and I was looking forward to some quiet time with just Edward and me to regain some modicum of sanity and peace.

I thought the knowledge that the stalker was safely behind bars would release me from all my fears, and in some measure, it did. I was no longer so paranoid about every unfamiliar person I came across, and relieved of the constant dread, I felt much lighter and more confident. It was nice not having to micro-manage my movements outside the Cullen home and to stop thinking in such a security conscious manner. I could plan things like going out on my own or even catching the bus, all of which suddenly seemed unusually attractive after being long denied.

What I hadn't counted on was the apparent lingering psychological effects. Aside from the panic attack I'd had that night I first trained with Emmett and Rose, and my habitual recurring nightmare, I thought I had come out of my experiences relatively mentally unscathed. It was only when I returned to school that it became apparent that was not the case.

I had been so busy concentrating the first day that I hardly noticed much beyond the other students and my lecturers. Later, though, I had a major freak out, and I still wasn't sure what caused it. One minute I had been walking to the cafeteria with Angela and her other friend Ben, the next I was wheezing and hyperventilating, my pulse racing with nameless fear as people stopped to stare at me in shock. Thankfully, Ben, a premed student, knew exactly what to do and dragged me away from the curious eyes to get myself together. Much like Emmett had done, he talked me down and helped me regulate my breathing. Although a little embarrassed, I was fine after that, but I remained somewhat jumpy for the rest of the day.

When I went to bed that night, the nightmare returned with a vengeance, the familiar scene morphing into darker and more terrifying visions. The only constant was Professor Snape, who repeatedly tortured me in more painful and inhumane ways.

I hated lying to Edward and downplaying my resurging insecurity, but I just rationalized it as stress-induced anxiety resulting from the combination of starting back at school and the emotional overload caused by the apprehension of my attacker. There was no need to make him worry about me when he had only just started to relax. I plastered on a smile and kept reassuring him that I was fine. Still, that morning I couldn't help but dress for war again, ensuring my fall-appropriate layers of clothing all had pockets, into which I stashed my secret weapons. I liked the comforting feel of armoring myself again. Adding the final touch, I twisted up my hair, securing it with my trusty lock picks.

My morning classes passed without a hitch, and I made plans to catch up with Angela in the library after lunch to begin some preliminary research for our major assessment piece. We both reasoned that it was never too early to get started, another thing that cemented my growing like for my classmate. When we met up later, we split the list of suggested reading, and I headed off in search of the required sources. One of the books was quite old, a seminal work that was housed in the reference section. I headed toward the oldest part of the library where the seldom used section was located. As I passed office doorways against the far wall, something caught my eye. It was a half door, almost like a hatch, and it demanded my complete attention.

I stared fixedly at it as something strange and surreal began to happen. It was almost as if I was _in_ my nightmare; it played out around me as I stood rigid and panting. The wall transformed into a tree, its trunk thick and gnarled with age. Serpentine roots twisted out from its base, and the otherwise unremarkable half-door became a yawning hole between the snaking wood. Like curious and ignorant Alice off on her adventures in Wonderland, I leaned over to get a better look at what lay within the darkness, feeling a violent shove from behind which sent me careening into the darkness. Except, I was in the real world remembering my terrifying dream, and instead of falling, I began shrieking with terror, bewildered and horror-struck.

An office door opened nearby, and I sensed rather than saw the unseen person back-track.

"The Swan girl is in here freaking out. Just thought you should know." I heard the clunk of a phone receiver being placed back in its cradle none-too-gently.

I was barely able to make out the words over the sound of my own terrified yowling before I heard hurried footsteps approach me.

"Bella! Are you okay?"

Hearing Angela's tentative voice, I tried to reign myself in. I stopped yelling and wrapped my arms around my body in an attempt at holding myself together as I started shivering.

"Were you having another panic attack?" she asked, coming to stand in front of me.

A new voice interrupted. "I've called the nurse. You should take her over there." One of the library attendants moved to stand next to Angela, but needing the security and grounding of someone familiar, I kept my attention focused solely on my friend.

Moving to place her arm around my shoulder, Angela steered me through the small but gathering crowd, walking me across campus to the student health center.

The reassuring and efficient nurse showed me to a peaceful and out-of-the-way cubicle, and once I was inside she encouraged me to lie down and rest. She disappeared to make me a cup of the universal panacea: tea. Although outwardly calmer, internally my thoughts were a tangled and fretful mess of uncertainty.

_What made me react like that? _

_Am I going crazy? _

_Will that happen more and more? _

_What am I going to do?_

Angela dutifully stayed with me, but when the time for our next session neared, I urged her to go to class. I knew my own thoughts were in too much disarray to pay proper attention, so I asked her make my excuses and explain my absence. She promised to return and check on me once it was finished.

When the nurse came back, I sipped some of the heavily sweetened tea she brought me before trying to describe what had happened, and she listened patiently. She explained that such a reaction was quite common after a traumatic event, alerting me to the fact that she had some knowledge of who I was and what I had gone through. She suggested that counseling might be helpful and offered to arrange a referral. I told her I would talk about it with my boyfriend.

Thinking about Edward made me long for the comfort of his arms, and I asked for my bag so I could call him to come and pick me up. The nurse promised to send someone over to the library to fetch my things as soon as someone could be spared, since all the staff was currently occupied with patients. Assuring her I was in no hurry, I lay back and closed my eyes, trying to think rationally about what had happened in the library. Something there had triggered some sort of flash-back, causing that surreal sensation of my nightmare overlaying reality. The psychologist I had seen back at Glenvale had warned me that certain places, events, or even sounds might spark some hidden detail submerged in my brain. What exactly was it that prompted my panic attack? I turned over memories in my head, always coming back to the same thing. _The door_. The hatch-like half door against the rear wall had drawn my eye.

My brain started processing things rapidly, recalling that some of my things had been found in another part of the library after my attack. I tried to remember what Edward had told me of the clandestine recordings James Davis had amassed. Had he filmed in any of the bathrooms in the library? I couldn't remember. As part of the cleaning crew, he would have had easy and unlimited access, and no one would have thought to question his presence there. Had he abducted me from the library? Maybe he had taken me near that odd door or even through it.

I needed to talk to Edward. He was the only one who could lend the necessary and objective clarity to the mess that was currently my thoughts. I looked up at the clock set high up on the wall. It was almost three o'clock. If the nurse couldn't get someone to fetch my bag, I would ask Angela to retrieve it for me when she came back. Her class would be ending soon, so it was just a matter of waiting until she reappeared.

Shortly after, Angela arrived carrying my things, which she said had been collected by one of the student aids. Thanking her profusely, I sifted through my bag until I found my phone, typing out a quick message asking Edward to come and collect me. I got a swift text back telling me that he was on his way and he would pick me up from the south gate. I frowned slightly at his choice of pick-up point. The south gate was used for service and sanitation vehicles and wasn't frequented by students, being somewhat out of the way. It would be easy for him to stop there, though, as it was away from the main entrance and thoroughfare. He would be able to drive straight in, rather than me having to walk out to find where he was parked.

Angela again insisted on keeping me company as I waited, giving Edward time for the drive over, before I said goodbye to her and the kind nurse who had looked after me. As I walked over to the prearranged place, my phone chimed with an incoming message from Edward.

_**You are being watched and this phone is under surveillance. Do NOT alert anyone to the content of the following messages**_

I stopped mid-stride, icy fear flowing through my veins before his warning reached me. Trying to look unconcerned and casual, I started walking towards our rendezvous point as I typed out a reply. To an ignorant observer, I would look like half the students here: engrossed with my phone and oblivious to everything else.

_**What's going on? Am I in danger?**_

Clutching it in my hand, I waited for his response as I covertly scanned my surroundings. The usual constant foot traffic of people was thinning noticeably as I neared the service gate. Everyone I passed seemed set on their own destination, and I couldn't hear anyone tailing me. I slung my bag diagonally across my body to better secure it, leaving my hands free. I mentally reminded myself where I had placed all my hidden weapons, resisting the urge to pat myself down to physically check their multiple locations.

Arriving at the gate, I chose a spot clear of any buildings, shrubs, and fences, and crossing my arms over my chest, I slumped into a typical teen posture to avoid looking too hyped. I wanted a clear zone around me to see what might approach, and also to be more visible to any passing people and whomever could be watching. While it was risky being so conspicuous if someone was aiming to attack me, others might be more likely to recall seeing me if I looked out of place than if I blended completely in.

My phone chimed again, and I impatiently pushed the buttons to open Edward's message.

_**You will be safe as long as you follow my directions. I have something of yours which I'm keeping as surety to ensure your compliance. If you do exactly as instructed, you will be taken to him**_

I read the enigmatic message over again, puzzled by what he was trying to tell me. It wasn't like Edward to speak in riddles. If my phone was being tapped, or whatever they called it, as he had said, he might be selecting his words carefully to avoid giving too much away. My phone vibrated immediately again, and my hand shook as I hit "open." It wasn't a text I received this time, it was an image. As I looked at the screen, it felt as if all the oxygen in the air around me was sucked out. Instead of shaking, I grew unnaturally still and calm as some primitive instinct took over.

On the tiny screen was a picture of Edward. He was lying on his side, his eyelids heavy and barely open. He appeared to be semi-conscious, the skin of his face deathly pale. His cheek rested in the dust of a bare dirt floor beneath him and his head sagged. He had a strip of silver duct tape plastered over his mouth, and he had been hog-tied. It looked so unnatural, seeing his lanky frame contorted that way, with his heels drawn up so cruelly behind him and pulled toward his tied hands. I could see the purple indents the rope was leaving on the pale flesh of his wrists. My stomach roiled, and bile burned at the back of my throat.

_Someone has Edward!_

I quickly reread the previous message. They had his phone, and he was being kept to ensure my cooperation. Whoever had him was using him as bait. My preternatural calm wavered for a minute as my secret fear was realized. Somehow, someone knew he was my Achilles' heel.

Another text message made my phone vibrate in my clenched fist again.

_**When the car arrives, get in the front seat and DO NOT cause trouble. DO NOT attempt to alert anyone or attack. His fate rests in your hands**_

I scanned the road as I watched for the car, not worried about doing so, since anyone expecting a lift would be looking out for their ride. Whoever was sending the messages had said I was being watched. Just because I couldn't see anyone didn't mean it was an empty threat. Even if it was, he had Edward. I would do whatever it took to be taken to him.

_I thought James Davis had been denied bail. What happened? _

My mind whirled with questions and possibilities, but I didn't have enough time to sort through them properly before I heard the sound of an approaching car. Edward's Volvo pulled up next to me, and a stranger clad in a red baseball hat, matching jacket and sunglasses was sitting in the driver's seat. The logo on the hat said _Beautiful Blooms._

My pulse raced and dread gripped me, and I tried to contain my panic in the face of Edward's captor. I opened the door, and, careful not to lean too far in, I faced the unknown driver.

"I need proof you have him," I insisted before I made any attempt to get in. I wasn't completely gullible. I couldn't explain away how anyone could manage to photograph Edward in that chilling pose, but his car may have been stolen in an attempt to trick me into cooperating. I needed to be absolutely certain before I willingly allowed myself to do this.

The quaver in my voice seemed to please the stranger, and his mouth turned up in an arrogant smile as he held up a lock of hair. As the sun coming through the windscreen hit the bunched strands, I could see that unique blend of fall colors that made Edward's hair shine like a copper penny.

Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I reluctantly slid in the front seat.

"Lovely Isabella, we meet again," he said, his voice lightly accented with a foreign inflection.

So he did know me. I peered at him closely but felt no familiar stir of recognition. "Please hold out your wrists so I may secure them," he demanded in a firm but civil voice. "No need to tempt fate a second time. Remember that your actions determine the continued health of the young man."

I held out my hands, all the while keeping the sickening image of Edward firmly in my mind to steady me. It went against every instinct I had to protect myself to allow him to restrain me, and only the knowledge that Edward was possibly hurt as well as captive kept me from refusing. He circled each of my wrists with heavy duty cable ties, clicking them tightly closed before linking them together with a third. He then instructed me to dangle my bound hands between my knees while he repeated the procedure with my feet, joining more links until my hands and feet were trussed together. As he completed his handiwork with an ease that spoke of long practice, I resisted the urge to use my elbows to strike at his back while he leaned over the center console and my lap as he bound me.

Tugging lightly at my bonds to confirm I was secured satisfactorily, he put the car in gear and drove away, a smug smile tugging at his lips. I also tested them to see how much range of motion I would have. I wouldn't be able to stand upright tethered as I was, let alone run, so even assuming I could get the car door open, I would not fare well if I threw myself out.

When we came to the first set of traffic lights, he leaned over to the back seat to retrieve something and then pushed a pair of sunglasses on my face. As well as being large, they were the wrap-around sort, and the inside had been coated with something to make them opaque. I had effectively been blindfolded but would look quite normal to any passing motorists who happened to peer in. I flinched as he pushed a cap on my head, the same one he had been wearing, judging by the slightly warm and damp feel of the inner band as it sat against my forehead. The fact that he didn't want me to see where we were going gave me some hope. If he had made up his mind to kill me, he wouldn't have cared about me identifying our route.

"There we are, all set for my little plan. We are going to have such fun!"

"You aren't James Davis," I observed, doing my level best to keep the accusatory tone out of my voice lest I anger him. I had to keep calm at all costs and I frantically tried to remember other suggestions from some reading I had done.

"Ha, ha, ha," he chuckled, an odd sound that made me think he didn't laugh often. "It's so very refreshing to have a civilized conversation at the beginning of an encounter, although I never grow weary of begging." He paused as if savoring the memory of such things. "You are quite right, I am not Mr. Davis. I was outraged to hear of his repellant activities when a colleague informed me of his arrest. One's proclivities should be kept private. However, I am grateful, as he proved a very timely red herring in the advancement of my own campaign. There is always more than one breed of predator in the jungle."

"Have we met before? Before−" I hesitated, almost ready to blurt out _before you almost killed me_. Would it anger him or just make him smug? Not wanting to take the chance, I chose my words carefully. "Um, before the, ah, warehouse?"

Although I was effectively blinded, I could almost feel the weight of his stare as he examined me, and I tried to suppress the crawling sensation in my skin that made me want to shudder in revulsion. I was glad I couldn't see him regarding me so closely.

"Are you being facetious, or do you really not remember?" he asked icily.

"I can't remember anything from that week at all," I explained in a neutral voice. "The, ah, knock on my head caused some memory loss."

"Oh. How very fortunate−for me."

I didn't bother responding to that.

"I passed you on Thursday as I was making my way out of the school refectory. Do you remember that? You had some sort of nervous reaction after, I hear." He seemed eager to confirm if his presence had affected me in any way.

Thursday was the day I'd had a panic attack. Had my subconscious mind recognized my assailant? It was more than likely, I thought.

"May I ask you a few questions?" I made me voice as respectful-sounding and meek as I could, since he would remember the mousy me, not the stronger and tougher person I had become. I remembered one article that reported how police were schooled to get information out of killers. It seemed that many of them, especially those that evaded capture for an extended period, had a sense of arrogance and condescension about their crimes. Evidently, they responded best to a light touch that praised their intelligence. "It's just that the police are still as puzzled now as they were to begin with."

"I see no immediate danger in indulging your curiosity," he conceded. "But I do not wish to spoil our pleasant chat by talking about the male. It is you whom I desire, after all."

I suppressed a shiver of distaste. He cared nothing for Edward's fate; he was just a means to an end for my kidnapper−a bargaining chip to be used to get what he wanted.

"So you saw me on campus? Is that where you first noticed me?"

"Yes, it is. I have a position there," he confirmed. "I have a professorship in Pharmacology."

I wasn't familiar with many of the medical science faculty.

"Oh. How did you…did I go with you willingly the first time, too?" I wanted to know how and where he abducted me.

He made the mirthless sound that passed as his laugh again. "I subdued you with a concoction that was put in your water container when you left it unattended while you studied in the library. The basement level has a large docking bay for deliveries. When you were suitably cooperative, I assisted you to my vehicle quite easily."

I had been drugged and taken from the library. Memories of the other panic attack I suffered earlier today came rushing back. That door! I was willing to bet that it led to the basement.

How had he gotten Edward? It was a terrifying thought that he could somehow trick or overcome a trained police officer.

"Why me?" I blurted out, desperate to ask the one question I had dwelt on for so long.

"Ah, Isabella, you don't know how your siren song calls to me."

He said nothing more for what seemed like a long time, as I wondered again how anything about the old me could have attracted anyone.

"Tell me this," he demanded abruptly. "I saw your messages to the young man."

My brain raced frantically, trying to work out what messages he was referring to.

_Edward's phone. He had sent me texts from Edwards's phone. _I had sent Edward some messages yesterday, and perhaps he hadn't deleted them.

What had I said?

I had written I was looking forward to alone time and I loved him. My heart sank with the recollection. That was how he knew Edward meant something to me.

He continued as I processed the connections and consequences.

"Are you still pure?" He hissed his question in a sharp tone.

The randomness of his question threw me.

Pure what?

Oh_. _

_Oh, holy-fucking-shit! What am I going to say now?_

"So you want me for my virginity?" I deliberately phrased my question to avoid revealing the recent change in the status of my virtue. If he had to ask, it meant he couldn't tell the answer by looking at me, and there was no way I was going to risk Edward's safety by taking away any bargaining chip I could hoard.

"It is not your maidenhead I desire," he argued. "It is something much more enthralling than the mere pleasure of your flesh. No, I covet your very essence−it is your _blood_ I thirst for. Potent, life-giving, and nourishing blood. The blood of a virgin is the most intoxicating and invigorating of all." His voice sounded reverent as he spoke of his obsession.

My stomach roiled again in horror, and my mind went completely blank. Unfortunately, the voice of my perverted captor still penetrated, even in my alarm.

"It is my birthright to harvest the blood of the innocent. The Volturis have survived and prospered for millennia, strengthened and sustained through the careful selection and sacrificing of unsullied vessels."

Volturi…Aro Volturi! That name I recognized, having seen it in the campus newspaper once or twice before. It was distinctive, even amongst the culturally diverse pool of the university.

He wanted my blood, he had Edward, and he had told me his name.

_He wasn't planning on letting me live this time, _I concluded bleakly. I couldn't bring myself to ask anything more. My mind was still in shock and my hope shattered. I sunk into a kind of depressed stupor, only rousing when the motion of the car changed from the fast but smooth vibration of bitumen to the slow roughness of a gravel road.

Aro halted the car and got out, and I could hear the sound of metal being unlatched and the creak of a wooden door or gate opening. He got back in the car and drove it into a building or garage, engulfing us in gloom. I felt the pressure of him leaning over me again, and this time I was unable to stop myself from flinching away from his touch. I heard the snick of something and felt a corresponding tug on my restraints before my feet were released, leaving only my hands still bound as he cut through some of the cable tie links. He got out of the car again and came over to open my door for me. Whipping off the hat and sunglasses, he blindfolded me before my eyes had time to adjust or take anything in. Carefully guiding my movements with a touch of his cool hand here and there, he assisted me out of the car and led me down some stairs. I could smell damp earth and stale air, and felt the temperature drop as we moved somewhere below ground. With strict instructions not to move, he left me standing alone briefly before returning. I almost shrieked aloud at the feel of cold metal sliding against my skin, and it was only with the first snick sound that I realized that he was cutting away my jacket and shirt to avoid having to untie my hands. It took some time as the material of my clothing was thick and uncooperative. I felt a brief sense of thankfulness, the irony of being grateful about anything to do with this situation not lost on me. Removing my clothes this way wouldn't mess up my hair any more than the hat he had shoved on my head earlier had done. Although doing so had moved the lock picks a little, they were still there, caught up in the thick tresses coiled at the back of my head.

Next, he undid my pants and pushed them down, leaving me in just my bra and panties, before pushing me backwards onto a waiting wooden chair. I briefly fought a sense of panic as he disrobed me, but he hadn't raped me last time, and he had emphatically stated earlier that he wasn't interested in me in _that_ way, so I tried to suppress the feeling. He then untied and removed both my shoes and socks, pulling my bunched-up pants over my bare feet. I shivered both with fear and cold while he linked a light chain around my wrists and body, further securing and tethering me.

"There we are," he stated. "It is such a delightful sight, seeing you secured so and waiting on my pleasure. I have long anticipated seeing you thus." His voice was exultant and gloating. "Regretfully, I must leave you for a while. I hadn't planned to act so soon, but various events aligned, forcing my hand. In the interest of maintaining my everyday charade, I have an evening class to teach," he explained, as if tying up girls and then taking off for a while was a normal part of his timetable. Perhaps it was.

"I will dose your young man again before I leave to ensure he is suitably subdued in my absence. If you decide to defy me as you did last time, I will not hesitate to end him, so be warned. I expect you to be waiting here for me when I return. I look forward to enjoying the pleasure of your…company later this evening. How I treat him depends on your compliance."

I strained to hear the retreating sounds of his footsteps, and at last heard the distinct sound of a door banging closed and the turn of a key in a lock. Finally, I was alone in the dark, no other sounds penetrating my prison. I sat there for a minute, digesting my predicament.

I had no idea of the time, where I was, where Edward was, and what state he was in. No one knew we were gone, or at least we hadn't been missed yet. There was so much more at stake than the last time I had been in this situation, since Edward's survival was directly linked with my next actions.

This time I was not totally clueless and unprepared. It was all up to me. I had to extract myself, find Edward, and get us out of here before Aro returned. Could I do it?


	41. Chapter 40

**Thanks to my wonderful beta's, Ragsstone and ShowtunesJesus. Big congratulations to ShowtunesJesus on her engagement this week.**

**Someone asked about the symbolism behind Bella's necklace, so I've posted a link on my profile.**

**Are you ready people? This is very intense. **

**SMeyer blah, blah, blah. I know you just want to get to the good stuff ;)**

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**Chapter 40**

_**Bella**_

"_The common eye sees only the outside of things, and judges by that, but the seeing eye pierces through and reads the heart and soul, finding there capabilities which the outside didn't indicate or promise, and which the other kind couldn't detect" ~ Mark Twain_

Once upon a time if I had been cold, half-naked, and chained in a basement, I would have been terrified and powerless. I might have been able to free myself from my physical bonds, but my mental ones would have kept me weak, dooming me to failure whatever I did.

That had happened to me. I might not recall it or indeed ever recover those memories, but I felt in my heart that was what had transpired last time. I didn't have the necessary determination, skills, or stamina to attempt to extract myself and the girl I had been succumbed, lost and alone, her passing not marked or mourned by anyone.

By some stroke of luck or fate, I had been granted another chance, first nursed and nurtured, then taken in and cherished. I had grown stronger in mind, body, and spirit, and embraced opportunities to experiment and extend myself further. It wasn't the endless sessions of training and practice that gave me the edge this time, though. It wasn't even fear that had given me the strength to fight back.

It was love.

I had become something more because people believed in me and loved me. _I _believed in myself too, and had grown to love the person I had become.

I also had something worth fighting for. _Edward. _He needed me and was relying on me, now more so than ever.

It was time to fight.

I had almost given up when I realized that Aro didn't mean for me to survive this time. The despair I'd felt had threatened to engulf me, derailing all my careful preparations for this very scenario. When I allowed him to lead me down below ground and chain me again, my passive behavior had been no act; it was a result of the despair that devoured me. It was only when he revealed he was leaving me alone that my optimism resurfaced. Rather than being scared, I felt elated when he left, buoyed by the opportunity his absence would afford me to get free.

Wriggling my hands, I contemplated my bonds. He had left me in the cable tie shackles, with my bound wrists still in front of my body. Tsk, tsk, his first mistake. It would be much easier to work my way free this way than if he had tied them behind my back. My wrists were each circled with a tightly cinched cable tie, a third joining my wrists together−mistake number two. The arrangement meant I could move my hands independently of each other, although I was somewhat limited since they were still joined. He hadn't removed my jewelry either, another error on his part. The skin beneath was well protected from friction, and I would be able to access the razor blade I had hidden inside the band as well. Once I was missed, I could also be tracked with the GPS chip in my cuff bracelet. I felt a momentary pang that I couldn't set off the personal alarm in my Celtic serpent necklace. Unfortunately, we had never foreseen a circumstance where Edward would be taken instead of me, and if I activated the alarm, the first notification would be a text message sent to Edward's phone. Aro might still be carrying it, and forewarning him would only provoke him to hasten our deaths.

Twisting my hands, I flipped open the press stud securing my watch band and removed it from my wrist. Holding it tightly and feeling along the exposed inner surface, I extracted the razor blade concealed within. Hunching over as far as the chains around my upper body would allow, I carefully held the razor between my lips, mindful of the sharp edges. With my hands free, I was able to put my watch back on so I could protect the skin below as held the razor blade and sawed through the cable tie. It took a while since the plastic was so thick and I couldn't see what I was doing in the darkness. Working by feel alone took even longer as I used my left hand to free my right, but I was determined to remove all potential encumbrances I could. Once that was done, I replaced the blade in its original home before setting to work on the chains.

Although they were tight, there was still enough slack to inch them around slowly and methodically. All I needed was to move the padlock that fastened the two ends of the chain to the front of my body, where I would be able to work on it without straining my arms too much. After a lot of grunting, gyrating, and shoulder rolling, I managed to move the padlock close to where my hands were. I wasn't sure how long it took, but it was long enough for me to have worked up a good sweat, even in the cooler depths below ground. I moved my arms up and down, trying to bunch the lengths of chain up together and to move them closer to my chest, giving my arms more range. Bending over at the waist again, I pulled my lock picks free, allowing my hair to tumble down around my shoulders. Thankfully, padlocks were pretty simple to spring when you knew how. Carefully inserting the tension wrench in the wider part of the keyhole, I maintained even pressure with my index finger while I held the pick in my other hand, using it to find the internal pins. With a satisfying click-sound, the padlock sprung open. I unhitched the ends of the chain and squirmed some more to release the slack. As I gained more movement, I was able to unwind the chain completely.

I quickly removed the blindfold, and used it to tie back my hair so it wouldn't get in my way, tucking the lock picks in front of my ponytail.

The inky blackness was complete down here; I couldn't see even the smallest sliver of light in the direction where the doorway was located. Bending to pick up the length of chain, I tested its weight and the amount of jingling sound it made with movement. Although the links themselves were a thin gauge, the whole length together was weighty and noisy. With a regretful sigh, I decided to leave it behind. With my hands stretched in front of me, I carefully made my way to where I thought the door was located. Finding a wall, I inched my way to the right, until I was rewarded with the feel of plaster edged with painted molding, and then the smooth and slightly raspy texture of a solid wood door. Locating the deadbolt lock, I set to work again. This one was a bit trickier, having been specifically designed to deter someone doing what I was hoping to achieve. It was much harder to keep constant pressure on the tension tool while my pick worked to line up the five internal tumblers. Twice, I almost had it before some tiny movement sent the tumblers falling back into their original position, forcing me to start all over again. By the time I felt the giveaway loosening as the tumblers aligned, my left forearm was beginning to tremble with the strain of maintaining its twisted position.

Shielding myself behind the door, I carefully pulled it open. When nothing burst forth to attack me, I crawled stealthily up the steep stairs. The darkness was less deep the farther I ascended, and when I peered over the edge of the top riser, I could just make things out in the gloom. I was in a large garage or shed with a hard-packed dirt floor. Sagging shelves lined one wall, stacked with ancient and rust-specked oil cans and old plastic drums sawn in half. Moving cautiously across the open space, I searched the shelves for tools or anything I could use as a handy weapon. The containers held an assortment of corroded screws, nuts, and washers of various sizes. The containers were too cumbersome to take with me; I needed to keep my hands free. I really missed my pockets. Right now, I'd just be happy to find some clothes, or better yet, a pair of shoes. Finding nothing that I could protect myself with, I made for the large front door, driven by the need to find Edward. Pushing it open, I was temporarily blinded by the brightness of the late afternoon sun. When my eyes adjusted enough to confirm the lack of any immediately visible threat, I cautiously walked out onto the dirt driveway in front of the shed. I carefully surveyed my surroundings, particularly looking for signs of a guard dog or any other sort of menace. Finding none, I examined the buildings more closely.

There were three sheds in all, standing side by side and sharing bearing walls. They were very ramshackle, and the end one had a decided lean. It looked like the only thing holding it up was the one next to it. Turning to look the other way, I saw I was standing in some sort of large yard, bordered by a thick hedge of ancient cypress trees. There was a small opening leading to a road, and the driveway was cracked and potholed. I fought with the momentary desire to race out to the road in an attempt to flag someone down, but the urgency of finding Edward overrode all other considerations. I turned my attention back to surveying my surroundings. Weeds pitted the gravel, and the lawn area was overrun by thick tussocks of grass and flowering weeds. Everything looked unkempt and overgrown. The driveway continued behind the outbuildings. I would have to check that out after I looked in the other sheds. The middle shed was also bare and had no other doors than the front entry. The ramshackle and crooked one had a wooden bar securing the door closed. On it was nailed a piece of rusty tin. Someone had painted a warning on the front in crude letters: "Keep out! Collapsed roof. Danger!" I walked around the outside of the building and stood on my toes, trying unsuccessfully to catch sight of the roof. I wrestled the bar off its cradle and opened the door. Although the walls were tilted precariously, the roof was still intact.

Inside was parked a white van. Although I was pretty sure the sign on the door was a ruse to keep people out, I moved tentatively in case the structure proved unsound. The van was an older Ford, the sort without windows in the back cargo area. I checked to see if it was locked. Finding it wasn't, I opened the door to check the dash. It had plenty of gas and no fancy electronics. I would be able to hotwire it easily enough, a thought that gave me a burst of energy. When I found Edward, we would be able to get out of here as soon as I could get him in. Climbing up into the driver's seat, I looked in the back of the van for any clothing or items I could arm myself with but found it empty. I left, leaving the garage door open behind me.

Sidling around the outside of the building, I hugged the side before leaning out to peer around the edge, trying to expose as little of myself as possible. Although he said he was leaving, Aro had not proven himself to be a model and honest citizen so far. Maybe everything was just an elaborate test and he was lurking somewhere, waiting to punish me as he had threatened. All I could see, however, was a shabby clapboard house with a large barn off to the side. The driveway near the house was empty of cars, and reassured that my kidnapper was indeed gone, I took a moment to toss up which building to search through next. He had put me in the basement of a shed instead of in the house, so maybe he preferred to conduct his blood drinking somewhere separate from his home. Making up my mind, I decided to go check the barn first.

Although the thick border of trees enclosing the sizeable lot blocked the view of any neighboring homes, I felt naked and exposed as I ran lightly across the uneven expanse of weeds and high grass. The breeze of the cool wind my movement created caused my skin to pebble with gooseflesh.

The big double doors at the front of the barn were better maintained, thicker and stronger than those fronting the rundown outbuildings, a sure sign that there was something worth protecting inside. They were fastened closed with not just one, but two different kinds of locks; a deadbolt and a turn-key style. It took a while to open them both, but this time I had the advantage of daylight to work with. Pushing one door open and leaving it ajar to let in some light, I stepped inside. The barn was roomier than all three outbuildings put together. The inside was suspiciously bare−no shelves or tools, not even a lawnmower. The only thing I found was a large broom along the back wall. Undoing the securing screws with the help of my tension wrench pick, I pulled the head off and kept the long handle, happy at last to have some sort of weapon.

_Aro must park his car in here_ I surmised, briefly taking in the thick black rubber matting that protected part of the spotless floor. I scanned the walls, looking for signs of a secret doorway in the paneling, but found none. Lifting a corner of the heavy floor mat, I peered beneath it. Spying the corner of what looked like a trapdoor, I put down my staff and wrestled the thick and cumbersome matting away to completely expose the opening. This guy sure had a thing for basements; I felt sure Edward was down there somewhere. Set into the concrete floor, the door had a recessed stainless steel handle but no lock, reminding me the of storm shelters seen in tornado zones. Using both hands, I lifted and flipped open the reinforced door, revealing a stairway beneath. The narrow space was illuminated by some sort of sensor light, since it came on automatically and I couldn't see a light switch. Brandishing my weapon in front of me, I made my way down the treads.

As I neared the bottom, I immediately focused on a keypad mechanism I could see to the right of the door. It looked old, dated, and as I got closer, I could see some of the numbers were faded. Jasper had told me something about these. Most were wired into the phone line and would send an automatic alert to a security company if the lock was breached. Suspecting what Aro Volutri did there, I didn't think that would be likely under the circumstances. I had two options: try to guess the entry code based on the worn numbers, or cut the power somehow to disable the electronic lock. The latter option might then inactivate power to the whole basement area. Deciding it would be easier if I could see what I was doing, I elected to attempt to figure out the code first. The numbers one, nine, and six were clearly involved, so one of them must be repeated to make up the four numbers needed. The nine and the one made me think of a year, since people often chose a personally significant date to aid memorization of numeric codes. I punched in nineteen sixty-six. Nothing happened, but I wasn't entirely surprised. It was too obvious, so I tried to think of what I would do if I wanted an easy number, but still needed to fool others. I reversed the numbers, carefully pressing them in. I would only have one other attempt if this was unsuccessful. This time I was rewarded, and with a loud click, the lock disengaged.

I cautiously pushed the door open, slowly revealing the starkly lit room within. Everything was painted a blinding white, and the ceiling was covered with humming banks of fluorescent lights. Edward lay in the center of the floor, his limbs contorted behind him, just as they had been in the photo. He was completely still, and his eyes were closed. I rushed over immediately, shaking him urgently to see if he was still alive. He groaned pitifully, and I could have cried with relief if I wasn't so torn by the sound of his pain. With a brief pause to steel myself, I scratched up a corner of the duct tape covering his mouth before wrenching it off in one go. I looked frantically around to see if I could find something to cut him free. Against the wall was a metal cupboard painted white, and I rushed over to fling the door open. A felt-lined drawer held a collection of knives, scalpels, and small implements which looked like stainless steel funnels with sharp pointy ends. Selecting the biggest knife, I returned to Edward and hacked the ropes free. He mewled as his body sagged while I ran my hands over him to check if he had been injured in any way. His wrists were rubbed raw in some places but his ankles had fared better, protected by his thick socks. There was a small spot of blood on the thigh area on his jeans, but he appeared otherwise whole. Although unbound, he still seemed to be in pain, crying out as his body jerked spasmodically. I could feel the tears gather in my eyes as I tried to sooth him with my touch.

_Get a hold of yourself, Bella! Don't just sit there feeling sorry for him−move your ass and get him out!_

Stiffening my spine and leaping into action, I stood again, scanning the contents of the cupboard eagerly to see if it contained anything helpful. From a large pile, I pulled out what looked like a folded white paper sheet. As it unfurled, I could see it was a suit of some kind, with a long Velcro fastening up the back. Opening it carefully, I stepped into it, feeling instantly more confident now I wasn't as naked. It was far too big and baggy, particularly around the waist area. I rolled up the sleeves, but as the legs ended in bootees, I couldn't do much about shortening the legs. It also had a hood, which I left off, and it dangled uselessly at my back. The cupboard also contained a similar stack of clear plastic items, which turned out to be protective drop sheets. I shivered when I realized what he used those for.

_He wouldn't want any mess left here or in his van when he transported bodies._

There were also packages of clear plastic tubing and small empty bags, and curious, I removed the elastic band surrounding a package to examine one better. They were empty collection bags, like the flasks hospitals used for intravenous fluids and blood donations. I gagged and dropped it, thankful that at least it didn't seem like he stored his stock of drained blood in this space. Coils of various types of rope, duct tape, and cable ties took up most of the remaining space.

Not wanting to waste any more time, I crouched next to Edward again, grasping his shoulders and shaking forcefully.

"Edward! You need to wake up and help me. We've got to get you out of here."  
He groaned again as his eyelids fluttered. His eyes opened enough for me to see his hugely dilated irises, the usually brilliant green flat, dulled with drugs.

"I can't carry you, Edward. You're too heavy." Pulling on his shoulders, I attempted to drag him upright. His eyes opened a little more and tried to fix on me.

"Beee…lll" he moaned.

"Yes, it's me, Bella. Help me, Edward! That man could come back anytime, the man who hurt you." My voice ended with a sob as I tugged at him again, my panic threatening to overwhelm me.

Sluggishly, he reached out a hand and placed it on the floor, slowly levering himself upright. He swayed for a while as he sat, his flickering eyes attempting to focus on me. Moving to grasp his hands, I pulled again, indicating I wanted him to stand. With a rocking motion, he moved himself, finally gaining enough momentum to stand. Turning, I tucked myself under his shoulders and wrapped his arm around my neck, trying to partially support his weight and give him some balance.

Like a pair of drunks, we stumbled through the doorway and made our way laboriously up the stairs. At least the narrow walls were able to give us some sense of stability. Once Edward's shoulders protruded above the lip of the garage floor, the swaying of his body became more pronounced and harder to control. His strength was fading fast, and I struggled to keep him upright while his feet barely cleared each riser. Suddenly he stumbled and we were thrown forward. I instinctively released his arm and put out my hand to brace my fall, but Edward fell headfirst with a heavy thump, almost dragging me with him. Disentangling myself, I crawled up the remaining stairs and gently lifted his head. He was out cold again. His chest and chin had borne the brunt of the impact on the last stair and garage floor. I wouldn't be able to examine his chest until I got him off the steps, but his chin was grazed and bleeding. Fisting the material of the light jacket he was wearing, I heaved and strained, trying to drag him off the stairs and onto the cement. Once his whole body was clear, I went back into the basement to retrieve my staff and the knife before closing the trapdoor, not wanting either of us to fall down into it accidently.

This was the part I wasn't looking forward to. I would have to leave Edward to go and get the van. After finding him, the thought of being separated from him again, however briefly, was unbearable. I couldn't drag him all that way, it simply wasn't practical or fast enough. I could feel the weight of time passing and just wanted to get out of here as quickly as possible. Wrestling Edward onto his side, I stroked his hair and reassured him that I would be coming straight back for him. It concerned me that he didn't stir, but his breathing was deep and even, and I could feel the measured pace of his pulse when I held his wrist. I opened both of the garage's external doors wide so I would be able bring the van straight inside when I retrieved it. Taking the knife and my makeshift staff, I sprinted out of the garage and back to the shed, barely noticing the sting of the gravel through the flimsy material of the white suit.

Once inside the van, I put the knife on the seat next to me and the staff behind me in the empty hold area. Crawling into the foot well beneath the dashboard, I unfastened wires from screws and connections and rearranged them with dogged concentration. I sighed in relief when the engine roared to life before taking the wheel, carefully backing through the leaning doorway and driving the short distance to the garage. My heart rate increased as I saw Edward slumped where I had left him, the trickle of hope that we might survive this surging higher. Despite feeling the minutes ticking away like a bomb countdown, I took my time backing into the shed, pulling up as close to Edward as I safely could. Leaving the driver's side door open and the engine running, I got out and opened the rear door, figuring it would be easier to drag Edward straight into the lower cargo area, rather than to attempt to move and push him up into the higher front seat. The shed echoed with the sound of the motor chugging away, amplified in the enclosed space so I could barely hear my own voice when I called out to Edward. Crouching over him, I shook him again to see if I could rouse him enough so that he could at least bear some of his own weight, but he remained unresponsive. Turning him onto his back, I had just hooked my arms through Edward's when the van's engine stuttered briefly and then died. Carefully lowering Edward back down, I muttered a brief oath before stomping around the van to restart it.

There, standing beside the open van door was Aro, his body rigid with rage. One hand clutched a crow bar and the other a gun.

I stood stock still, my mind shrieking in terror and dread. I hadn't heard him come in over the noise of the idling engine.

"You chose to defy me again!" he screeched, spittle flying off his thinned lips. He pointed the crow bar at me accusingly. "You should have done as I told you, my word is law!"

His voice dropped lower, the icy and flat pitch even more ominous. "I will punish you severely for disobeying me."

My eyes fixed on the crow bar as it jerked menacingly toward me.

_A wand. _An image of Professor Snape wielding his wand from my dream came to me. Before it could drag me down into a maelstrom of hysteria, I shook the image free, frantically trying to think of a way to get the knife and staff out of the van.

"The boy's life is forfeit," he hissed at me. "I offered you a means for making this easier for you, but you utterly disregarded my generosity. I will not spare you the pain of it this time!"

The chilling craziness in his eyes told me he meant every word, and I knew I had to draw his attention away from where Edward was sprawled behind the van.

"You won't get my blood if you can't catch me," I yelled before sprinting to the back of the garage, grasping my pendant alarm and depressing the button as I ran. I heard a loud bang and saw a large hole appear in the side wall as he fired at me, his shot going wide. Cleary, he had no skill as a marksman; the shot was nowhere near close to me. I raced for the broom head I had discarded earlier, snatching it up just in time. It was long, wider than the width of my shoulders, the sort designed for factory floors. I grasped it firmly in both hands as I braced one leg in front of the other, bringing it up just in time as he swung the crow bar at my head. I blocked the blow easily, but the shock of it reverberated up my arms, making them tingle uncomfortably. Aro was snarling, his face twisted into a fearsome grimace of fury. He swung the crowbar again, and I deflected his strike to the side, changing my motion at the last minute to bring the blunt side edge of the broom head in a forceful jab, connecting with his exposed side. He made a gurgling sound as he crumpled over, all his breath rushing out in a pained huff.

My mind began to clear with the small victory. _I can do this! _

My preternatural calm was back, and it was almost as if I could hear Rose's voice in my head, urging me on, reminding me which kung fu moves were best to disarm and disable an attacker.

Aro recovered quickly, his face even more wrathful. As he stood erect again, he brought up the gun, which he still clutched in his other hand. I reacted automatically, my back leg swinging through and snapping out in a perfect front kick, the ball of my foot connecting with his hand. The gun went flying, and I could hear it hit the cement floor and skitter away. I didn't follow its trajectory, all my attention focused on the more imminent source of danger in front of me. Aro howled as he wrapped both hands around the iron bar, his rage making him hasty. He swung fast and low, trying to take out my knees this time. I stepped back, bringing the broom head down to crack across his knuckles, making him yelp in pain. I watched as sweat beaded on his brow while I crouched ready in horse stance. The bar whistled through the air again, and I dodged it easily, not bothering to retaliate this time. The pointy end of the crowbar caught on the baggy side of the suit I was wearing, opening up a large rent in the woven material. Aro was fatiguing already, panting with exertion. I kept my eyes fixed on him warily, much as one would a snake waiting to strike. I was motionless and composed, knowing that I was gaining the advantage as he lost control.

"Why won't you just lie down and die like the others did?" he spat as his chest heaved.

That had truly been his gravest error, seeing me merely as a conquest and not as a person. He had no idea how much his attack had changed me, and he had therefore underestimated me−to his peril.

"I'm not like the others," I replied, my voice strong and level. While I talked, I let go of one end of the broom briefly and I reached my right hand up to my hair. Pulling my hooked lock pick free, I kept it in my palm as I put both hands back on my weapon.

I feinted to the side, wanting to draw him out, and sure enough, he reacted by striking out. I spun around in a roundhouse kick, the crowbar glancing along the outside of my thigh as my leg circled up and connected with Aro's jaw. I felt a satisfying crack as teeth or bone yielded under the power of my strike, and he stumbled backward. I threw myself against his chest as he teetered, using my meager weight to accelerate his fall. As his body toppled full length to the hard surface of the garage floor with a sickening sound, I stabbed the pick into the left side of his chest. I felt the thin length of stainless steel slide easily between his ribs, and I used the broom head and the weight of my own fall onto him to drive it in as far as I could.

His eyes locked onto mine and widened. He looked surprised for all of a minute, before his eye froze and seemed to go flat. I felt the movement of his chest as he exhaled, and then…nothing more. The tension left him as his body relaxed completely.

I lay on top of him, waiting for some response, astounded that my desperate move had worked. Peering down hesitantly, there was no tell-tale surge of blood and no sign of the pick protruding, evidence of how deeply it had been driven. I couldn't quite wrap my head around my success, certain that Aro must be faking.

Suddenly a loud noise boomed, arriving with stinging pain as the world around me wavered, engulfed in a red cloud. When my mind cleared, I could hear my pulse echoing loudly in my ears. I was looking up at the metal rafters of the garage ceiling.

I turned my head with painful effort to see a small black-haired person kissing Aro. Sluggishly, I turned over and pushed myself up to sitting. Blood dripped over my forehead and trickled down my face and chin, slowly dripping onto the bare floor as I leaned forward. I felt weak and dizzy, and my head pounded painfully, making me dry retch. Hearing my sounds, the person rounded on me, and I found myself staring into the barrel of a gun.

"You!" she screeched. "Why won't you just die? He couldn't kill you, and he punished me when I tried. What did you do to him?"

Now that she was facing me, I could see it was a girl, probably around my age. She was shorter than me and had cropped black hair. She looked half-crazed, and with the gun so close and feeling so faint, I dared not try anything. I stared at her as recognition slowly came.

"I…know you. You work in the library…it's Renate, right?" I asked.

"What did you do to him?" she repeated, jerking the gun closer to press against my forehead. "I saw you push him down, but that shouldn't have killed him. He won't breathe, no matter how much air I blow into him."

"He kidnapped me and was going to drink my blood!" I cried feebly.

"You should be honored! You should have given it to him willingly. I gave him mine all the time, but it was never good enough!"

She sniffed then, and I could see tears trickle down her thin cheeks.

"He said virgin blood did more…Mine was only good enough for now and then. He said the pure stuff was better and made him feel stronger and lasted longer."

Her features twisted, her sneer turning her pinched face ugly.

"And you−he liked yours best of all. I thought once he had his fill, he would forget all about you and be happy with me again. I looked after him and protected him! I helped him in every way, but he still couldn't let you go, especially after he found out you weren't dead. I even snuck off to see what was so special about you. I couldn't see anything, though." She examined me with a critical eye. "I still can't. You're just another girl."

"It was you in the hospital, wasn't it?" I asked in a whisper. My forearms began to shake slightly with the effort of holding myself up.

"Yes. I thought he would be mine again if you were dead. He found the jacket and hat I stole, though, and got mad at me. He punished me so bad, I couldn't go to work for a whole week."

Her eyes scrunched closed at the memory, and taking a chance, I stole a quick look over at Edward.

"You helped him take me from the library, didn't you?" I asked, pieces of the puzzle finally coming together lethargically as blood trickled down my cheek.

"He told me I had to help more this time in reparation. Before, I just made sure no one else was around. This time, I let him know when you were freaking out in the library. Someone from security had told me you couldn't remember what happened the first time. I watched you when you came in earlier and heard you talking to that other girl. When you did that thing, I knew somehow you remembered it started there. I phoned Master, and he had a plan all ready to go. I took your phone out of your bag when you went to the campus nurse and sent a text to your guy. Master did the rest," she finished with a shrug.

"What are you going to do now?" I whispered.

She stared at me in a calculating way for a few minutes.

"You might not look like anything much, but unlike the others, you're still breathing. You hurt my master and for that, you need to be punished. I might have to dart you like I did your guy first, though. You're too slippery to take a risk on."

She kept staring at me until it seemed she came up with an idea, her face splitting in a twisted smile.

"Master liked blood−_a lot−_so maybe I should make him happy and make you bleed as a parting tribute."

It's strange how time can be so elastic. Sometimes, like when I fought with Aro, it seemed to speed up, everything passing in the blink of an eye. Now, it dragged out, each image like a still-frame, vivid and crisp. I saw Renate freeze, her inky hair moving languidly as she twisted, alerted by some sound. Her arm rose higher, following the movement of her body as she turned her gun toward a new target. My pale hand reached up slowly, as if pushing through taffy instead of air. I grabbed her arm as the pregnant silence was rent by the sharp reports of firearms being discharged. I felt the vibration of the shot as it hit her body, watching as her chest bloomed with scarlet ribbons and tiny drops of crimson pattered against me. Her body rotated with the force of impact as she crumpled, every action still playing out in slow motion. I could hear the sound of screaming as she collapsed on top of me, and then I knew no more.


	42. Chapter 41

**To the lovely Ragsstone and ShowtunesJesus, thanks again for the beta-ing.**

***Sighs and wipes away a tear* This is the last regular chapter of this story. There will be an epilogue, which I will post within the next two weeks.**

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**SMeyer made all this possible. I'm just another dabbler.**

* * *

**Chapter 41**

_**Edward**_

"−ward…out…here…bad…coming"

Shaking, someone rattling everything, trying to make scrambled eggs out of my brain. I opened my eyes and saw a vision. There, dressed in pure white, was my angel. _Bella_. She was so beautiful to look at, and light radiated from her dazzling aura. She gathered me in her arms, and we started flying to heaven. The earth didn't want to let me go, however, and started to drag me down. I felt the weight of the world's troubles pull on me, and I plummeted down, falling into a black abyss.

~oooOOOooo~

Something hit my exposed side and jolted me into awareness. I could hear shouting, so loud and inconsiderate! I was lying dead, peaceful in my eternal slumber, and had suddenly been thrust into the middle of a fight between a black imp from hell and one of the white heavenly host.

_Fuck me, I can't even go to my final rest without someone bothering me! _

I shivered with cold but sweat poured off me, further blurring my vision. My stomach churned, and my muscles contracted painfully.

_I wish they would go away and leave me to be miserable in peace._

I let go again, surrendering to blessed oblivion.

~oooOOOooo~

My chest ached, and it hurt to breathe deeply. My hip and side were throbbing from contact with a cold and unyielding surface. I heard women talking. I tried to focus more on the voices.

Bella! I heard Bella.

_She is my heart_, I thought with a sigh.

I felt disoriented and disconnected from everything, unsure of what I was supposed to be doing. Bella always made everything right, and if I could just get to her, I knew everything would make sense again. I flopped onto my back and rolled on a hard object in the process. It dug into my flesh painfully, so I reached underneath me and pulled it out. I brought the object up close to my eyes to see what it was.

It was a gun. I looked at it, struggling to make sense of what it was doing underneath me and where I was.

With a surge of adrenaline, thoughts swam into focus, and my heart began beating faster. I checked the weapon by rote as I attempted to muster my still dull thoughts, and turned to the sound of the voices. What I saw froze the blood in my veins and stopped my heart dead. I lost all hold on my humanity and was left a cold and inhuman shell of a man. I allowed the animal in me out, and, turning onto my hands and knees, I sinuously slunk closer to my prey. I readied myself for the right moment to pounce, and my muscles bunched as I sprung. Instead of using my claws, my metal finger spat and hit the target, not in the head as I had intended, but fatally enough.

I felt a coinciding flare of intense pain in my shoulder, and I staggered with the force of it. An alien sound burst from my chest, and I bellowed until the pain receded, replaced by an unsettling numbness. My quarry had managed to retaliate and mark me before collapsing. I could smell the mortality leaking out of the prey as it crumpled, but it obscured my heart as it did so. I drooped, too, and crawled over to drag my heart out from under my kill. She was covered in gore and I wiped her off, checking to make sure she was still whole. The only blood my heart emitted was from her head, and that was now crusted over and sealing itself. My heart, although still, seemed otherwise whole, so I wrapped myself around her, holding her to my chest where she belonged. So tired…

~oooOOOooo~

I woke later, disoriented once again. Sharp smells surrounded me, and as I moved, I felt the stiffness of starched sheets beneath me. I wriggled my hands, a tugging sensation alerting me to the fact that something was attached to one of them. There was something clipped to my finger, and I could feel a twinge from the IV in my hand as I bent my wrist. I cracked open my eyes, a move that made my head throb slightly as bright light stabbed me instantly. I heard a small sob and was enveloped by the weight of a warm body.

"Oh, Edward! We've been so worried about you!"

I opened my eyes again and took in the sight of my sister draped across my chest. My dad jumped out of his chair and came over, resting his hand on my shoulder.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, son. We're so glad you're with us again." Dad's voice sounded strangled and choked with emotion. He cleared his throat. "I'm just going to do some routine observations and then we'll talk about what happened, okay?"

I tried to nod, but it just made my headache worse.

"Okay," I croaked instead, my jaw aching with the movement. "Alice, can you get me some water?"

Sniffing, she poured some water into a plastic tumbler and helped me take a sip. Dad shone a small flashlight into my eyes and asked me random questions like the current month and year and the name of our childhood pet hamster. He tested my reflexes and listened to my lungs and heart. After fiddling a bit with the pump administering my intravenous fluids, he seemed to regain to his more usual calm as he completed his examination.

Alice sat on the bed next to me, her thumb dancing over the screen of her phone as she started firing off texts.

"I'll just let the staff know you're awake again, and then we'll talk." Dad looked into my eyes as he spoke, his face looking more worn and somber than I remembered.

Something serious must have happened.

I mentally rolled my eyes at myself. Of course something serious must have happened−why else would I wake up in a hospital?

_Did something happen to me at work?_ I tried to remember what I had been doing last. Dream-like snatches and images popped into my memory, along with a sense of dread.

My body stiffened as I started to remember, and I cried out as pain lanced through my shoulder. Pushing it aside, I reached for Alice.

"Bella! What happened to her? Is she okay? Where is she?" I tried to move and get out of bed, but Alice hurled herself onto my lap, preventing me from swinging my legs out.

"Edward, hold on and I'll tell you," Alice pleaded. "She's alright, I promise!"

I tried to calm my ragged breathing and sagged back into the pillows.

"Bella's stalker kidnapped you and then used you to get her. Somehow, she got you out, but he came back and she fought him."

Bella fought her stalker?

My hands automatically flew to my hair, but a sharp pain in my left shoulder stopped me from being able to raise my hand. I looked over and saw the whole area swathed in thick bandages.

"You got shot, Edward. He had an accomplice, a girl who lived with him. She shot you." Fat tears pooled in her eyes before rolling out. "You are _so_ lucky! It just glanced off your collarbone. It broke the bone and tore some of the muscle. There was a bit of bleeding, and you needed some stitches to put things back together, but they say you'll make a full recovery."

"What about Bella? Was she…hurt?" My heart felt like it jumped into my throat as I mumbled the words, not knowing how I would survive if it was true. Alice had said she was alright, though, and I clung fiercely to her words.

"She…she got shot, too."

I made a strangled noise as my worst fear was recognized. Sensing I was about to leap off the bed again, Alice laid a firm hand on my legs to keep me still.

"The bullet just grazed her. A quarter of an inch lower and she could have…" Alice's voice choked off, and she cleared her throat before continuing. "Bella had to have some stitches to her head again and is a little anemic from blood loss, but she got off pretty well, considering." She grabbed my unaffected hand, squeezing it. "You'll be so proud of her. Jasper says she's been a tower of strength since she came to. She wouldn't let them admit her to the hospital and came to sit by you as soon as they finished treating her. Once they said you were out of danger, she insisted on going back to the scene to give her statement and talk them through that happened."

"She's doing that on her own?" I stormed.

"Oh, no! Mom and Jasper are with her. Mom has been messaging me to let me know how she's holding up. She's been making sure they take good care of her. I've let her know you are awake, and they're on their way back now. Jasper hasn't left the scene since he found you there." She looked down to her phone, still clutched in her hand like a lifeline, her face a mask of sorrow.

"He said it shaved ten years off his life tracking you down and then seeing you both in that shed, covered in blood. He thought he was too late…"

"What about the people who did this? I remember firing a shot, but everything is so jumbled up that I'm not sure what was real and what wasn't."

"They're both dead," she assured, sounding glad about the fact. Something inside me eased at the news, and I couldn't find it within me to feel guilty about being relieved they had both died.

The door opened, and Dad, Emmett and Rose came piling in. The room filled with babbling voices, and I found myself stroked, patted and prodded as everyone reassured themselves I would indeed recover.

"So what's the damage, Dad?" Emmett demanded. I turned to hear the news myself.

"Well, Edward has been heavily drugged with GHB, which that psycho professor was apparently making himself. It caused the seizure you saw hours ago when they had to give him pain relief to fix his shoulder. He's got a fractured clavicle, which will heal with immobilization. One of his ribs is broken and another on the other side has a sizable crack in it. He has an impressive array of bruises and scrapes, but has been extremely fortunate." He came closer and reached over Alice to lay his hand on my head. "We're so happy you're in one piece. You don't know how terrifying it was to get a phone call telling you your son is being taken to the hospital. I might be a doctor, but I'm your dad first. It was awful."

I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat.

"How long have I been here?" I asked.

"You've been in the hospital for about eighteen hours. You had a bad reaction to the combination of illicit drugs and the medication they gave you to treat your injuries. You almost stopped breathing, and had a series of convulsions at one stage. They tend to make you very drowsy after, and you've been sleeping solidly for quite a while."

I marveled at how much time had gone by already, even more anxious to see how Bella had fared for myself.

The door flew open again, and Jasper and Mom came in, their arms around Bella. Alice climbed off the bed and everyone moved so they could stand around me.

Bella had a police cap on her head, bits of stringy and stiff hair poking out beneath it. Her body was swamped by the too large police issue sweats she was wearing. Her face was pale and drawn, a streak of dried red marring the skin near her ear and down her jaw. She tentatively reached out her hand, and I grabbed it, enfolding it in mine gratefully as I tugged her closer. We stared at each other for the longest time, the room and others around us disappearing.

"You're here," I whispered. Nothing else mattered.

"Thank you for saving me." She looked so pitifully small, her bottom lip quivering as she spoke. "I thought that after surviving everything else, that girl was going to finish me off."

"No, thank _you," _I insisted_._ "You saved us both. I couldn't have done anything if you hadn't gotten me out and protected me. I always said you were the strongest person I knew."

She looked down at her feet as my family stared at her, their gazes showing mingled awe and gratitude.

"I…I think I need a wash. I'm really tired now." Bella swayed with fatigue.

Everyone started talking at once as they all leaped into action. Mom went to get some towels for Bella, and Alice and Rose promised to go home and get her some fresh clothes. Dad went to see if they could bring a fold-out bed in for Bella. Emmett and Jasper decided to get food for everyone, and before I knew it, the whirlwind had subsided and the room was empty but for the two of us. Releasing my hand and turning away from me, she took the hat off her head and put it on an empty chair. I gasped at the sight; her beautiful hair was a mass of clumps, stiff with dried blood.

"Oh, it's okay," she mumbled as if reading my thoughts without looking back at me. "It's not all mine."

Opening the door to the attached bathroom and stepping inside, she pulled off the borrowed sweats, folding them in a neat pile on the sink. I caught a glimpse of a long scratch and the purple-black bloom of bruising before she shut the door. I heard the sound of the shower running and waited impatiently for her to be finished.

I must have dozed off again, since the sound of springs creaking roused me. A low bed had been set up next to mine, and Bella was sitting on the edge with her back to me, looking out the window. Her shoulders were slumped with exhaustion, her head bent forward. I was again struck by the fragility that seemed to surround my usually tough and resilient Bella.

"Can you come over here?" I asked quietly.

She jumped, startled by the sound of my voice, before getting up and stumbling over to my bedside.

"Bend closer," I demanded.

She bent her head down, and I reached over to gently rearrange her wet hair to see a huge area of bruising and a small row of neat stitches. Leaning carefully to avoid jolting my arm, I gently kissed nearby, careful to avoid the bruised area.

"She shot me. She shot me when I killed Aro." Her voice was so small and toneless. I studied the bleak look on her face, wondering what was troubling her. I needed to fix it, fix her. I turned over her words again, desperately trying to ferret out their hidden meaning.

_She was worried about killing that piece of scum._

I put a hand on her hip and drew her flush with my side. I raised my palm to cup her face, making her meet my eyes again.

"You killed him to save yourself, and me."

I lifted the white hospital gown she was dressed in to inspect the injuries I knew were concealed underneath, noting her lack of underwear with surprise but without arousal. Now was not the time. I wondered where they had gone until I remembered the lack of her usual clothes. The forensic team had probably taken them as evidence for processing. I hissed when I saw the long thin graze running from her hip to just beneath her breast. I pulled her close to kiss it, too.

"He tried to bash me senseless with a crowbar. He swiped me with it. I didn't even feel that one."

Sliding my gaze down, I brushed my hand down her thigh, tugging it gently toward me until she got the hint. Kneeling on the side of my bed, she showed me the huge bruise that mottled along the outside of her thigh.

"I did feel that one, but I knew I had to finish it somehow. He was going to kill you, probably while I watched." Her voiced cracked with emotion. "Then he was going to do…whatever…to me. I kicked him over and stabbed him with my lock pick. On purpose." Her voice petered out, and I knew she was close to spilling out the source of her misery.

Not caring how much it hurt me this time, I bent from the waist, bringing my lips to pepper the discolored area over her thigh with delicate kisses.

"I killed him, and I knew I was doing it." She sobbed loudly. "I wanted him to die, so, so badly! I'm a killer, just like him!"

I pulled her to my chest with my good arm, tucking her close as I murmured soothing words.

"You did what you had to do to survive, Bella. Nothing more, nothing less. You didn't set out to do away with him, just because you could. You were fighting for your life!" I planted a kiss on the top of her head.

"If it makes you feel any better, I killed too. I shot that woman. I saw her pressing that gun to your head and I didn't think twice−I just reacted. I didn't care about the how or why. All I saw was threat and I became an animal."

"I would have killed her too, you know," Bella interrupted. "If you hadn't done it first, I would have. I was thinking as she talked, planning out how I could do it. My broom head was within reach and I still had the garrote wire in my bra. Then there was a knife on the front seat of the van and a staff in the back. I'm no better than they were, plotting someone's death."

The front of my hospital garb became damp with her tears as we clung to each other. Over and over, I told her it wasn't her fault, and that she was a good person thrown into impossible circumstances, faced with a choice to act or die. Although I felt little remorse about my own reactions, I did feel culpable for my role in the activation of the kidnapper's plot.

I kept flashing back to the moment the stalker opened the door, when my instincts warned me all was not as it seemed. Who he and his sidekick were was immaterial; I would find all those details out for myself later. I felt guilty and ashamed that I had allowed myself to be lulled into a false sense of security after Davis was charged, and that it had nearly resulted in both our deaths.

"I'm sorry, too," I whispered into her hair. "I should never have let down my guard when they caught Davis. I should have waited until they had more on him. I feel like such an incompetent idiot. I never thought it would be me he came after to get to you…"

Bella lifted up her tear-stained face and glared at me. "Don't−just don't, Edward! Aro was evil, and he used every opportunity to go after what he wanted. He used that girl, he used the smoke-screen of that other man, and he used you to hurt me, and it almost worked."

"All right, so no more recriminations, okay? We both did what we had to do, and we survived it." I pulled at the sheet, rearranging it to cover both of us. "Now, you're tired and I'm still woozy. Sleep, because I'm sure there will be more talking and analyzing later."

With that, we snuggled together and drifted off to sleep.

Deep, thumping pain in my shoulder woke me many hours later. I was alone again, and I pressed the bell for a nurse. She bustled in, and in a burst of proprietary helpfulness, I was given pain relief, had my observations done, my arm tied in a sling, and was propped up on a pile of pillows. Bella emerged from the bathroom dressed and groomed, and sat on the chair against the wall, keeping a close and critical eye on the nurse. Once the she left, I asked if there was a problem.

"Have you seen the way those nurses look at you? I had to fight them off and give you a sponge bath myself while you were unconscious. About five of them volunteered to help!" She scowled as I laughed. "I overheard one of them raving about how much you were like some character she was reading about in some smutty on-line story."

She was so cute when she was jealous.

I could hear raised voices in the corridor, and the door was pushed open with a bang as my whole family poured in, all carrying containers and bags. After kisses and handshakes all around, I watched as an amazing spread was laid out on every flat surface around. My stomach growled in appreciation of the enticing smells of bacon and real coffee.

"Hey, man!" boomed Emmett. "Good to see you looking better. We came back last night, but you were both out to it. I hope you've got an appetite because we brought you some real food."

Jasper came over last and nudged my good shoulder, and I could see the relief plain on his face. I couldn't imagine what it had been like for him. I myself had attended many harrowing crime scenes, but I had never personally known any of the victims. It must have been distressing and traumatic for him, dealing with the aftermath and the needs of the family.

"I stopped the guys from OPA coming in. They'll have to talk to you, but you should at least get to eat first. After they've done their thing, I'll catch you up with the investigation," Jasper promised.

"Oh, and the medical team will be around shortly, too," my dad added. "They need to run some tests to make sure the GHB overdose didn't damage your heart or liver, but you might be discharged later today if the results come back clear."

Bella came to perch on the side of my bed and helped me eat, since I only had one good arm. As I looked around at my nearest and dearest, I felt grateful that I had been given so much. I had a family who loved me and were my best friends. I had good health, and endured a horrific experience with my life and body intact. And by my side, I had an amazing, tough, smart, and beautiful woman who loved me.

Later, I was thankful for that moment of clarity, as the rest of the day was a blur of activity.

First were the officers from the police internal affairs department, the Office of Professional Accountability. Although I had not been performing in the line of duty when I fatally shot one of the perpetrators, it could still be construed that I was acting as an active officer. There was also the matter of my personal association with Bella, which of course had come to light in the fallout of the kidnapping. A rep from the police union was also present to act as my advocate. After being grilled for what seemed like hours, they stepped into the corridor to confer briefly before returning for a summation. They had reviewed all of the notes Jasper and I had amassed during our investigation, which they reported to be both detailed and professional. They had interviewed Jasper, Bella, Maria and her partner Stephan, and Alec and Jane. They had a statement from our sergeant, acknowledging his awareness of Bella's placement with our family and the development of our relationship. Finally, they gave their verbal confirmation that although Bella and I had formed a relationship, it in no way impeded the thoroughness of the investigation we had been conducting as a result of Bella's attack. As for the shooting, they agreed it was a clear case of self-defense and to protect the life of a victim held in hostage. I breathed a sigh of relief as they left.

Then there was the round of blood tests, and radiological scans to ensure no permanent damage had been done. At least Bella was able to come with me for most of those. She had not been allowed to stay when the OPA officers did their thing. There was a constant stream of messages and requests for interviews from various news teams. The kidnapping of an officer and death of a serial killer proved to be big news. I was furious they knew my name, but Bella hadn't yet been listed as the other victim, so I tried to be thankful about that at least. After a reporter managed to sneak in with my lunch tray, the precinct sent around a couple of officers to keep unwelcome attention at bay until I was released. By late afternoon, the lethargy was catching up with me again, so I napped while Bella lay next to me and read a book.

It was almost dark when Jasper reappeared to fill in the blanks of what had been happening over the last two nights at the precinct and the stalker's house. Bella said she wasn't ready to hear all the gruesome details yet and went to the cafeteria to get something to eat.

It was the first time I had heard him named in full. Aro Volturi was a professor of pharmacology at Bella's university. He was forty-five years of age. When they searched his home, they found scrapbooks hidden in his bedroom containing extensive profiles, outlining the physical characteristics and routines of each of his victims. They also found lists of previously used and potential sites for his rituals, as he chillingly referred to them. Except for Viktoria, all the ones we had linked were represented, plus another five more. Most of his victims had been sourced from girls he saw in and around campus, plus a few local Risdon girls, and one he met at a conference at another university.

A search of the property had uncovered another underground chamber at the farthest edge of the acreage. It housed a clandestine laboratory, which he used to brew his own GHB, among other things. They also found the dart gun used to overcome me, and some ledgers documenting Volturi's observations experimenting on optimal dosing on his victims. He had used this method before, originally putting it into water bottles, and later branching out into darting from inside the van to avoid being seen. He refined his snatch and grab technique even more with help from Renate.

They also found the graves of two girls, who were Renate's predecessors. It seemed Aro Volturi liked the idea of a live-in blood donor and slave but had encountered problems keeping them docile, willing, and secret. When the first two had proved too problematic, he simply terminated them, their usefulness no longer worth his efforts. Along with his bizarre ideas about the value, or lack thereof, of their blood, he also had odd ideas about where he deemed it appropriate to dispose of his victims. The lesser donors were only good enough to go in the dirt, while the objects of his fantasies were further purified by immersion in water.

Jasper's face was grim as he described the discovery of years of journals Volturi had kept as a legacy "for his future heirs." It was the source of much of the investigation team's insight into his behavior and methods. His father had left him his own memoirs, reinforcing the need to stick with the pursuit of virgins to avoid feeding from a "tainted" supply. It seems his father succumbed to AIDs in the late eighties, leaving Aro and his two brothers orphans. Aro was the oldest, and attempts were being made to track down his brothers to see if they shared his blood-drinking and homicidal exploits.

The diaries also referred to how he had acquired his previous assistants and Renate. He had bought her from her parents as a teenager. Subjected to life-long physical and sexual abuse, her submissive nature made her the perfect aide. He gloated in her attachment to him once Renate realized all he required of her was regular donation of her blood, housekeeping duties, and the occasional kidnap or body disposal job. Although apparently free of disease, Renate wasn't a virgin, and therefore her blood was only deemed fit for "maintenance"−a source of jealousy on her part, Aro wrote. He had placated her by reminding her that he always discarded the girls he abducted when their blood was completely consumed. The Volturis thought the longest health conferring and conserving benefits came from a "pure" source. Of course, these days, virgins were hard to come by, and Jasper related in disgust how they found long journal passages lamenting the difficulties obtaining younger girls, since they were more likely to be closely supervised and accompanied by adults or parents. Although it was difficult to find older virgins, young adults were more likely to be out on their own, and the delay in being reported missing always worked in Aro's favor.

They found items belonging to victims in the house as well. It seemed Aro liked to give some to Renate as gifts. Bella's laptop had been found in her room, along with a mobile phone and iPod belonging to some of the other girls. His holding cell in the garage basement had a stock of Hazmat suits filched from the university, along with items used to harm and restrain victims. The scene investigation team also found a stock of new underwear similar to what Bella was found in after her first attack.

I asked about James Davis, concerned he may have been connected in some way. Jasper assured me it was just a random coincidence that he was also stalking girls on the university grounds, although it seemed he merely watched them from afar. There was no evidence he had killed anyone besides his would-be girlfriend, Viktoria. He did admit to stealing items from students, although he claimed to have found some things, like Bella's iPod. It was looking like that fact was true. The iPod could well have been left behind with her other items when Volturi spirited her away from the library.

Aro Volturi had been on our list of potential perps. If we hadn't been sidetracked with Davis' arrest, we would have gotten around to interviewing him. Whether it would have led to his apprehension or precipitated another attack on Bella we would never know.

I let Jasper's words sink in, turning them over in my mind to make sense of what had happened. After some time, I realized that no matter how much I thought about it, his crimes and the consequences on our lives and those of his many victims would never make any sense.

"How did you know?" I asked, wanting to see how he put together the pieces to come after us.

Jasper smiled. "Well, when we were training together in the gym, you told me what you were going to make for dinner. I knew how important it was for the two of you to get together and have some quality time and a real talk after we thought Davis was the one. When Alice and I were getting ready to make our own meal, I told her it was a bit strange that neither of you were home yet. We tried calling you both and got no answer, which made us start to worry. I suggested we check on Bella using the GPS chip. When I saw she was in Risdon, the alarm bells really went off in my head, since Alice confirmed my thought that she didn't know anyone from there. I thought I'd drive over and just check things out. If you two had snuck off for a little private time, well, I could have just disappeared and you'd be none the wiser."

Looking at his familiar wry grin, I realized he might say that, but I would have been in for some ribbing if that's what had happened.

"I was halfway there when I got an alert message on my phone from Bella's necklace alarm." His voice turned grim again. "Remember it was set to bounce to me if you didn't respond within ten minutes? I phoned for back-up from the locals and we went in with drawn weapons. When we entered, we saw two dead bodies and the two of you lying together covered in blood." He swallowed audibly. "I thought you were both gone. I didn't know how I was going to tell Alice and the others."

I grabbed his arm, hoping my eyes conveyed how grateful I was. "Thanks, brother. It makes me feel better knowing that if I hadn't ended it, you would've had my back and done it for me." We embraced, and I winced as he thumped me in a manly gesture on the back.

Bella poked her head around the door to see if we had finished talking. I gestured her over, and she came to sit next to me on the bed.

"This sort of reminds me of my first memory of you both," she said with a smile. "You were both so sweet to me. I could hardly think straight, yet you were patient and kind. Back then, I thought of you as the Cullen God," she finished with a laugh, looking up at me with bright eyes.

"What was I, then?" Jasper sulked. "Chopped liver?"

"You were Officer Cute."

It was my turn to laugh.

"That's right−Bella raved about your fingers." Jasper snorted. "So _big _and soft," he imitated in a high voice. "Yep, and you blushed just like that, too!"

I punched him in the arm as the heat suffused my face. This time I was remembering other occasions she had commented on my fingers, times that had nothing to do with holding my hand.

We were interrupted by one of the nurses, who came into to inform me that all my test results had come within normal range. I was free to go whenever I was ready to be discharged. Jasper went to bring the car into the pick-up bay at the front of the hospital, while I completed and signed the necessary paperwork.

Once that was done, I had another deja vu moment.

"Hey, Bella, it seems this is like that first visit in more ways than one. You're going to have to get some of my stuff." I waved my hand over my wrinkled hospital johnny. "I don't have anything. I'm not even wearing any underwear!"


	43. Epilogue

**A very special thank you to Ragsstone and showtunesJesus. Thank you for your assistance, mentoring, and advice. It has been an invaluable education.**

**Thanks, hugs, and eternal devotion to Bower_of_Bliss. You have been a source of inspiration and aspiration, and I will never be able to say how much your support has bolstered, reassured and calmed me.**

**Congratulations to my lovely friend Panda on the momentous arrival of her dream, baby Basil.**

**Hugs and tickles to another lovely friend, Mother Wolf, as she recovers from surgery xxx**

**And lastly, but most importantly, THANK YOU, dear reader. I have appreciated all your kind words, your votes, the wonderful and addictive reviews, the pimpage and the chats. ****Thanks for taking a chance on an unknown and green author. This had been a rich and rewarding experience for me because of all of you :)**

**The link for the outfits for this chapter are on my profile page.**

* * *

**Epilogue**

_**Bella**_

The kitchen was a hive of activity. Steam curled in lazy wisps, light glinted off shiny copper cookware, and mouthwatering aromas abounded. Music played softly in the background but was almost completely eclipsed by the sounds of laughter and happy conversation. I stood in the doorway for a moment, observing everyone from my vantage point. Alice and Carlisle were swapping stories as they drained the steamed vegetables. Rose and Jasper were preparing the salads, ribbing each other about who made the best looking radish roses. Emmett and Esme were dancing over near the windows, the sounds of Esme's laughter ringing out as Emmett dipped her in a theatrical gesture. I couldn't help but smile at the familiar and relaxed scene.

Suddenly, another tantalizing scent overlaid the wonderful smells of food cooking. It was accompanied by radiating warmth and a sense of comfort. Then I felt the delicious pressure and subtle heat of a firm body pressed full-length along my back as Edward's arm circled my waist, drawing me back against his chest.

His breath tickled my ear as he nuzzled me.

"What are you doing standing there, beautiful girl?"

"Just watching. I love seeing how your family is together."

"They're your family, too, now," Edward insisted, and I turned my face to kiss him.

As if he had heard our exchange, Carlisle looked up and smiled at us.

"There you two are. We can't do this without you, you know."

And just like that, I was drawn in and effortlessly embraced again. Having grown up with mostly just my mom and me, I had never known what it truly felt like to be a part of a family, let alone such a close one. I had been lonely for a long time, the empty, unacknowledged ache inside my only company for far too long. Had I known the depth of what I had been missing, I think I would have despaired even more. Hand in hand with Edward, we joined the others, serving up food and carrying laden dishes into the dining room.

It was a Saturday, but since Esme and Carlisle were leaving for their trip to Brazil the next day and Glenvale's fundraiser was on that evening, Sunday Supper had been brought forward to the only time left available. We were having lunch together instead of the usual evening meal. The dining room was decorated in accents of red and gold, and vases of flowers and Chinese lanterns decorated every flat surface. Every October, the Cullen family had a "good fortune" celebration. This year, there seemed even more reasons to celebrate, Esme informed me.

The last few weeks had been tumultuous to say the least. Almost a month had passed since the climactic events at Risdon. There had been endless follow-up interviews with the police, some just by phone, but others that meant a trip into the precinct. The media attention was much more intrusive, and we frequently had to dodge the multitude of media hounds still hanging around, clamoring for an inside scoop. Since the story had been syndicated worldwide we had received numerous offers for the movie rights and book deals. We would all be glad when the hype died down.

To Edward's chagrin, I had also insisted on returning to school. The university was still in turmoil, and rumors buzzed around like annoying and determined mosquitos. That three people associated with the university had preyed on its students, and that lives had been lost as a result, hit everyone hard. Numerous new security measures had been initiated and a counseling center set up. Both Edward and I were having therapy privately; Edward once a week but more often at times for me. My deliberate actions in ending Aro's life and strategizing Renate's demise still weighed heavily on my conscience, despite everyone's reassurances that I had acted instinctively to fight for my life. I needed some outlet to express my guilt, and also to purge my lingering fears. My nightmares of Snape had been replaced by new ones, dark and terrifying ones where I was too late to save Edward. Dissecting them all with Dr. Zarafina helped me work through them. She also helped me realize that the minute I had decided to take proactive steps to prepare myself to fight back, I had ceased being a victim and started being a survivor.

I had been worried that Edward wouldn't feel the same about me when he heard how things ended with the stalker, worried that he would see me as hard and calculating, and view my behavior as mercenary. I should never have underestimated the unconditional nature of his love for me, his words, manner and actions showing that he accepted every part of me, even the part that had been hard enough to end another. There were times I was almost glad he had suffered through his parallel ordeal. Having endured it together, we intuitively understood how the other felt−the guilt, the self-doubts, and the anger.

Edward was still off work with his fractured collarbone, but the official clearance regarding his role in the events had finally arrived the day before. Although he had been ambushed, captured, and affected by illicit drugs, he still acted to protect the life of a civilian under threat, a fact that mitigated almost everything else. Edward was cleared to return to work as soon as he wanted. He would be confined to a desk job until his shoulder healed, but I could tell the forced inactivity chafed him, and he would be glad to get back to policing in any capacity possible.

After we had loaded the table with overflowing dishes and sat down, Carlisle cleared his throat and stood with a glass in hand.

"As members of this family, most of you have participated in more than one of these celebrations. This year, we have much more to celebrate than usual. Today, I'd like to start by acknowledging how thankful we are to have everyone together. Some of us might be battered and bruised, but we are still hale and hearty enough to fight another day." He winked in my direction before turning to Edward.

"Thank you, Edward, for saving Bella's life. Even though she is endlessly resourceful and has proven herself more than capable of looking after herself, love means putting yourself on the line to protect another."

With murmurs of "Here, here," we all raised our glasses in a toast to Edward. Carlisle left his place by the table and came to stand behind me, placing one of his hands on my shoulder. I twisted in my chair to look up at him in question.

"Bella, my sons knew there was something special about you from the very beginning. Over time, Edward fell in love with your specialness, and we watched as it transformed him." I felt Edward's hand grab and gently squeeze my own, where it had been curled in my lap.

"After you joined us and we got to know you better, we all came to see what they saw. We watched as you blossomed with care and guidance, reaching out to grasp life with both hands, taking every opportunity to grow and learn."

I could feel a lump of emotion settling in my throat as tears welled in my eyes.

"Although you lived under a cloud for some time, you never let it hold you back and when catastrophe befell you and Edward, you didn't let it hinder you. Instead, you acted to protect yourself, and our son and brother." He tenderly squeezed my shoulder as he whispered his next words.

"Thank you from the bottom of our hearts for sheltering and defending Edward. Thank you for fighting so hard, and for never giving in. It would have devastated us all to lose you both."

A sniffly and emotional round of "Here, here's" followed, and when it had quieted down again, Carlisle continued.

"I've talked with Edward to make sure you were ready and would welcome this. Now it is time for us as a family to acknowledge our intentions. Bella, would you do us the honor of officially joining our family?"

I gasped in surprise. "What?" I blurted out so eloquently.

"It simply means that we love you for _you, _Bella, not just because Edward does. You will always have a place with us, regardless of where your life may lead you."

I couldn't hold the tears back any longer, and as I kissed and hugged everyone, they were bathed in the signs of my joy. I thanked them all for helping me find my way in my new life, and for giving me courage and a sense of belief in myself. I had gained so much more than a place to stay, and I was truly honored by their formal invitation. As Edward held me while I attempted to compose myself, he ruined my shaky efforts by whispering in my ear that I better ready myself for further statements of intentions, since he planned to make his own very soon.

After things eventually settled again, Esme brought out a red and gold box, opening it to reveal a pile of fortune cookies. Handing the box around with great ceremony, she explained for my benefit that this was a traditional part of their yearly celebration, ensuring we all had a piece of good fortune to carry with us for the next twelve months.

Esme broke hers open first, reading it aloud. "_If you continually give, you will have_," she recited. "That's true," she agreed, looking around the table at all of us and smiling. "I have so much. What does yours say, Carlisle?"

"Mine says−_Your ability to juggle many tasks will take you far_. You know, I actually _did _learn to juggle in med school. It was great for stress relief."

Alice laughed as she scanned the small slip of paper she held in her hands. "_Trust your intuition. The universe is guiding your life. _See, I told you I'm not psychic, I just have friends in high places!"

"Well, I suppose that's better than 'I see dead people,'" Emmett added in a mock-spooky voice.

Rose reached out to brush my hand. "Mine says something about friends. _A friend is a present you give yourself." _She looked at me meaningfully. I was really touched by her simple acceptance, especially since I knew how hard she found it to trust others after her own experiences.

"I got a great one this year. _You are never selfish with your advice or your help," _Emmett read out. "See, even the cookie knew I was born to be a counselor."

Edward was sitting next to Emmett, so I looked over to him to see him staring at his fortune with an intense look on his face.

"What message did the universe send you, Edward?" asked Alice, a note of teasing in her voice.

"_Love is like a wildflower…it is often found in the most unlikely of places_," he whispered, before his eyes rose slowly to capture mine.

I would never grow tired of the effect he had on me. One look from him was enough to make me float on a cloud of love and overwhelming emotion. Other times his gaze made stand tall, ready and eager to conquer the world. Sometimes, like now, it made everything melt and liquefy within me, desperate to run to him to share the heat building inside. During these intimate moments, the world around us would fade into oblivion, the only things worthy of notice and attention being the feelings and thoughts we shared through the window of our souls.

"Yeah, that's got to be a Hallmark moment. Cue the oohs and aahs," Emmett chuckled. "So I can add crime scenes to the list of places to pick up girls."

Rose and Esme both reached over to slap him on his meaty upper arms, while Alice threw her napkin ring at him, and Jasper called him an oaf.

I just smiled and shrugged, knowing he meant no disrespect. "To quote someone wise," I countered, "Shit happens."

"So what piece of enlightenment did you draw, Bella," Carlisle asked.

I carefully cracked open my cookie, and pulling the strip of paper out, I read it. My message was slightly longer than the others, and the truth of the words strongly resonated with me. Wordlessly, I handed it to Edward. He peered at it cautiously, my reaction making him wary. A look of relief and then pride changed his frown into a big smile.

"Yep, that's you alright," he agreed before handing it on to Emmett.

He frowned in concentration as he read the words and then nodded sagely. "Profound."

My message did the rounds of the table, leaving everyone silent and thoughtful for a moment.

Wanting to lighten the atmosphere, I looked over to Jasper.

"We haven't heard yours yet. What did you get?" I asked him.

He laughed. "I got conned! Mine says _If you think we are going to sum up your whole life on this little piece of paper, you're crazy_!"

~oooOOOooo~

I had been an afternoon of firsts for me. After lunch, the women of the Cullen family had departed for an afternoon of pampering in preparation for the night's gala event. Some of it was lovely, such as the massage and having my hair done, but after hours of being examined and inspected from every angle, it was time for something else. After I had been prodded and primped within an inch of my life, we returned home to dress. Rose, Alice and I would be departing first, since current and former residents whose work was on display were required to be available before the first guests and potential buyers attended. Rose was overseeing several artists like me who works were being exhibited, and Alice was working as a part of the clinic's staff liaison team. The other members of the family were arriving later. Rose was adamant that Edward not see me until the gala was in full swing, wanting to heighten the impact of my sophisticated new look.

I had never owned or worn a formal gown before. As I stood in front of the mirror, I barely recognized the polished and poised young woman who stared back at me. My hair was piled on top of my head in soft curls, artfully messy, a few tendrils falling in loose ringlets here and there. My make-up was subtle and light, but my lashes looked ten times longer, framing my eyes and making them stand out more. The vivid blue of my dress added a hint of radiance to my skin. It was strapless and had a black organza overlay that ended in a pretty flower pattern at the hem. The lightly ruched bodice and cinched-in waist gave me a more womanly silhouette. My legs were encased in sheer black stockings and matching heels, which both covered my scars and made my legs look slender and twice as long. I felt elegant and grown-up, which sounded silly coming from a twenty-one year old woman who had lived independently from the age of seventeen. My confident look just underscored how much I had changed over the last few months. Being dressed like this felt like a declaration to the world−here is Bella Swan, finally transformed into the woman she always had the potential to be, but who previously lacked the self-confidence and ability to strive toward.

I couldn't help but arm myself though; I tucked my new lock picks into my tiny clutch, along with a small can of pepper spray that looked like a tube of lipstick. I also pinned my Celtic serpent pendant inside the sash of my dress so it was an invisible but a reassuring presence. The thin coil of garrote wire was secreted in the underwire casing of my lacy black strapless bra. Although I knew Aro and his follower were gone, my eyes had been opened to the sickness of others in the most painful of ways. I didn't think I would ever completely shake the twinge of paranoia when surrounded by strangers, but I had grown more adept at hiding and dealing with it. Even a few token weapons did much to maintain my sense of equipping and protecting myself, of being vigilant at all times, and I immediately felt calmer and more prepared.

I joined Alice and Rose in the foyer to wait for our ride. Alice sparkled from head to toe in a dress of varying shades of gold. Rose looked like a supermodel in her dress of draped green satin. It was simple and understated, showing neither cleavage nor too much leg, but made her look both regal and alluring. The real surprise, though, was Esme. I gasped aloud when I took in the sight of her scarlet dress. It had capped sleeves and finished at the knee, however, there was nothing demure or matronly about it. It was fitted and had a deep neckline that highlighted the curves hidden beneath, and suited her perfectly. Alice wolf whistled as her mother sashayed toward us, the sounds of her matching stilettos clicking on the tile floor.

"What?" she asked coyly. "There's plenty of life in the old girl yet!"

"Dad will never let you out of the house looking like that," Alice teased.

"We're beyond the whole ripping our clothes thing off and getting side-tracked stage, darling. It's all about building the anticipation." She winked. "Watch me and learn."

She then flittered around taking pictures, telling me that since I had never been to prom, tonight was going to be my equivalent coming out, and should therefore be photographically documented for posterity.

I enjoyed the limousine ride to the gallery, the novelty of it making me grin like an idiot during the all-too-brief trip. Rose and Alice smiled at me indulgently. They had attended many similar events, while it was a completely new and exciting experience for me on so many levels.

I had never been to such a fancy event and was rendered speechless by the grandness of it all. A string quartet played on a raised platform, the notes lingeringly beautifully in the vaulted space, mingling with the muted sounds of tinkling glasses and murmuring voices. I stood in the elegantly decorated gallery, nervously smoothing down the front of my dress as I waited, watching as the stylishly dressed patrons began to filter in. I was standing in front of the six pieces I had chosen to donate to the fundraiser. Although privately run, Glenvale took a few non-insured residents per year, providing all the required care from a special trust fund, the beneficiary of tonight's efforts.

In what seemed like no time, I was surrounded by people viewing my work and I made polite conversation with several of them to reduce my initial self-consciousness. As I was talking to an enthusiastic elderly gentleman who kept trying to look down my dress, I caught a glimpse of a man leading his wife to stand in front of one of the paintings. It was the very first one I had done, where I was lying injured, being tended by the angelic figure of my nurse. The woman's profile looked familiar, and I caught myself staring as the man whispered something into her ear. Whatever he said seemed to make her happy, and she gave him a brief kiss before approaching me. Grateful to have a polite reason to ditch the lecher, I excused myself and turned to the couple, finally recognizing the woman when she was facing me. It was Wendy, the nurse who had looked after me after the attack. I had mailed an invitation and photo of the picture to her at the hospital. It seemed her husband had surprised her, buying the painting as an anniversary present. He explained that, because Wendy loathed having her photo taken, it had been difficult for him to get a permanent keepsake of her. With pride in his eyes, he told me all the things she did as extras for her work, saying how happy he was that someone else saw her as he did, recognizing not just her skill but her compassion and empathy. It gave me a warm glow that they were both happy with their purchase, and that it held as much sentiment for them as it did me.

After they left, I noted a gorgeous woman with long, straight dark hair staring intently at another of my paintings. It was one I had done of Jacob. He was bare-chested and wearing just a pair of jogging shorts as he sat in his wheelchair, bulging and rippling muscles prominent in his meaty forearms, tight abs, and well-defined thighs. On his foot, which was perched on an elevated leg support bracket, was a gaily colored hand-knitted sock with a fuzzy pom-pom on the end. His head was bent over his task, a look of fierce concentration on his face as he knitted a tiny pink angora baby bootie. It was a study of contrasts, the strong-looking and impressively built young man obviously injured and working with such absorption on delicate handiwork.

The woman began taking pictures of the painting on her iPhone as I studied her. Her burnished tan skin was displayed to its best advantage by the deep V of the back of her stunning lace gown, her figure toned yet feminine. She focused on her phone for a few minutes as it dinged with incoming texts, before rushing off abruptly as I watched, perplexed. After a few minutes, she returned, dragging a huge man in a dark suit with her.

"Bella?" a familiar voice asked.

"Jake! How are you?" We shared a friendly hug, but one of his arms remained firmly around the intriguing woman "And who is the lovely lady?" I asked.

"Oh, this is my girlfriend, Veronica." He blushed as he puffed out his chest.

We shook hands politely as Jake made the introductions. He explained that all of his wood sculptures had been snapped up early by a dealer specializing in indigenous art, leaving him more time to socialize. We made small talk, and when I asked about his recovery, Jake shared how he and Veronica had met after his physician became worried about the stiffness in his fractured pelvis and leg as they healed. Needing to limber up and improve his flexibility, he had impulsively signed up for Latin dancing in a class Veronica taught.

Veronica gestured to Jake's likeness.

"I just saw your picture of Jake, and I couldn't help myself! I texted a few girlfriends of mine and we formed a syndicate to buy it. They all love drooling over him in his tight dance pants, so I can't wait 'til they see this up close! Now we'll have some eye candy to brighten up the studio wall. If you'll excuse me for a minute, I have to go and arrange payment."

"Wow, Jake. She's beautiful _and_ talented. Don't tell me one of your abysmal pick-up lines actually worked?"

"Ah, no," he admitted, flushing an even deeper red. "Actually, I was so awestruck when we met, I couldn't say a thing. Apparently, she likes her men tall, dark, and mysterious."

I snorted in reply. "So she's been helping loosen up your pelvis…"

The look on his face made me laugh, and it felt nice to turn the tables on him for once after enduring weeks of corny and innuendo-laden pick-up lines. The sound of my laughter was abruptly cut off as I caught sight of Edward as he walked toward me.

Edward in a tux.

The overhead lights made his hair blaze umber, russet, and auburn, and his emerald green eyes burned into mine. Even the black sling supporting his injured arm could not detract from the inherent sexiness of such a strikingly handsome man dressed in such beautiful and simple finery. All the breath left my body as tingling warmth flared to life deep in my belly. I was lost and home at the same time. When he reached me, he enfolded me in his arms, and kissed me in a way I should have been embarrassed about but wasn't, considering the audience and venue.

Jake cleared his throat loudly several times in an unsuccessful move to gain my attention. I heard Jasper's voice give him a friendly warning. I hadn't even noticed his arrival, caught up as I was with Edward's.

"I wouldn't get between those two if I were you, Jake. They've killed for each other, you know." His tone was light and meant to be joking, but the inherent truth of his words was undeniable.

Pulling back slightly, Edward's eyes swept over every inch of my body.

"You look…you are a vision of loveliness. Both stunning and sinful."

I met and matched the longing look in his eyes.

"Yeah? You're looking both fabulous and wicked yourself." I moved in closer to whisper in his ear. "Want to go find an empty service room somewhere? I promise I'll service you like no other…"

Edward's mouth fell open, and he quirked an eyebrow.

"My, you have come a long way Ms. Swan," he said and smiled appreciatively.

Our intimate and playful bubble was broken by the arrival of the rest of the family. With Edward's arm firmly anchoring me to his side, I related the theme of my work.

"As much as I hate to subscribe to the cliché, these pieces all represent various points in my journey. They show people who have helped me, and who opened my eyes to my potential to help others. The last one symbolizes how everything has affected me, of how far I have come."

The portraits of Wendy and Jake had already sold. I had also done one of Emmett. I was inspired to paint it after visiting him at work on day. It depicted him leading a string of small children through a muddy area of the playground. The kids walked behind him, trying to place their small battered sneakers and galoshes into the large muddy footprints he left trailing behind him. The expressions on their faces were priceless. I had wanted to capture the joy of childhood, but what it illustrated instead was hero worship. Like little fluffy ducklings, the children were attempting to mimic the steps of their idol. They were lucky, those children, to have a teacher who cared so much about each of them.

We all gazed at it silently, until Emmett let out a quiet and almost reverent-sounding "Wow."

"Do you like it?" I hesitantly queried, nervous but wanting his approval.

"I'm honored," he assured me as he nodded. "Do they really look at me like that?" he asked in an almost shy voice.

"Of course they do. They love you," I insisted. "You're a great teacher and counselor. I should know."

The next picture was the one I had painted of Alice in the garden, the day that Edward and I had our first argument. She was sitting cross-legged on the lush, verdant green blanket of grass. She had pulled her baggy hot pink t-shirt over her legs, making her look like a thinner version of all-knowing Buddha wearing a robe. Spiraling around her was a drift of white and pink, the petals of the cherry blossoms that had gusted in on a random breath of warm wind. Against the brilliant cerulean blue of the sky, the golden ball of the sun, and the darker green of the bordering hedge, the bold colors made everything sparkle like a jewel. The look of peace and wisdom on Alice's face made the simple scene complete.

I hadn't intended to include that one, since all exhibits were shown on the proviso that they were available for purchase. I had wanted to give it to her as a gift, but Alice insisted it be shown, explaining that it would be her only opportunity to see her own likeness displayed at such a prestigious venue "just like Mona Lisa." I think she had another ulterior motive as well, and my hunch was soon confirmed. A very frustrated Jasper asked if I had any veto powers over sales, since he had slipped away to try to buy it, only to be informed it had already sold. He then started interrogating every member of the family, trying to work out who had beaten him to it. Something in Edward's answering smile must have given him away, and a war of friendly haggling ensued.

Carlisle just ignored them, linking my arm with his and steering Esme and me onto the next one. We looked at it silently, and when I looked over at them to gauge their reaction, I could see how much it affected them.

It was my personal take on Michelangelo's Pieta. A lanky blond-haired policeman sat on the ground, his head bent and his face a mask of grief and distress. In his arms he supported the form of his fallen comrade, whose blue uniform shirt was dirt-stained and spotted with blood. The look on his face and his posture made his concern for his partner palpable. The other man's face was turned into the seated officer's side, only the disarray of his copper-colored hair hinting at his identity.

"It's called 'Brothers in Arms,'" I murmured. "I know neither was in uniform when it happened, but they may as well have been. When I regained consciousness, that's what I saw. I'm sure Jasper would have carried Edward to the ambulance if they had let him. Painting this has been like therapy for me since that day, but I can't bear to look at it all the time. Too many raw memories, you know? Someone has already approached me about buying it and donating it to the national law enforcement officer's memorial. I hope it's okay with you that I told them yes."

"It's a very fitting tribute. It deserves to go somewhere like that," Carlisle replied, lifting up his hand to squeeze my shoulder. Esme just gave me a watery smile. Emmett, sensing we needed a distraction, cleared his throat and asked about my final piece. We walked over it, Edward and Jasper joining us after finally settling their negotiations. Alice and Rose also came over, taking a minute from their duties to join the family for a while.

The final portrait was large, almost life size, taking up a significant portion of the wall on which it was hung. It was a self-portrait, the only one I had ever ventured to do so far. In it, I stood partially facing a large, marble-edged mirror. The Bella at the fore-front was dressed as I had been the day I first went back to school, wearing my battle gear replete with pockets. Bright sunlight streamed through a window on the right, sparkling off various items in the picture and surrounding the featured figures. Hints of my armor could be seen−the silver of my picks visible through my messy top knot, the red glint of the stone set in Edward's gift of strength and eternity, the light reflecting off the shiny surface of a miniature whistle, and the black tip of a telescopic metal baton peeking out of its pocket on my thigh. My chin was lifted slightly in an almost defiant angle and my hands were held in loose fists at my side. I looked self-assured and in control. Standing just behind me and mirroring my posture was Edward. He was looking at me, his face conveying both his love and pride, seeming to add to this Bella's aura of strength and purpose.

The mirror image Bella was slightly hazy, a somewhat distorted image of smaller stature. Secondary Bella was a bland replica, bowed and apathetic-looking, just as I had been in what I now thought of as my previous life. Instead of having a supportive and equal Edward by her side, all the other Bella had was a dark elongated shadow, an effect of the shaft of buttery light that highlighted the figures in the fore-ground. The shadow looked menacing, a representation of the stalker that had plagued me. Everything surrounding bland Bella looked gloomy and featureless, poor imitations of the items represented so vividly on the other side.

"I've called this one 'Through a glass, darkly.' It symbolizes my evolution over the past months. Before I was attacked, I had a distorted view of life, and of myself. I was scared of everything−of trying, of failing, and most of all, of living. Then, I died and realized that there were worse things to fear."

I looked around at the circle of people that surrounded me, sending up a silent prayer of thanks that I had been lucky enough to find my way to these people. To love and be loved. To be happy.

"When I died, my soul was released, and I was born into a new life. I might not be in heaven, but every day, I think that I could be. I _see_ it all around me and do what I can to deserve it. Does that make sense?"

Edward pulled me close again and kissed my temple. "You always make perfect sense to me."

Fishing down the front of my dress, I pulled out a small slip of paper, warmed from where it had been tucked against my heart.

"Now I know I was right to think that way, the fortune cookie confirmed it." I read the message aloud, my voice ringing with sincerity as I shared my new mantra for living, knowing I achieved so much of it already.

"_Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers, but to be fearless in facing them. Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain, but for the heart to conquer it._"

**~The End~**


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